Thread of Fate
by Razamataz22
Summary: Giving a gift to Harry was meant to be a simple thing for Ginny. Little did she know of the potential horrors she would subject him to. Was it a curse or a blessing, a shield or a weapon, was it something simple or more complicated than anyone could imagine?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

...

Hermione Granger gazed out the window, the thirteen-year-old girl willing away the time so that hours would pass and she would be one day closer to returning to the world she had been introduced to only years prior. London, in and of itself, was an amazing place but when placed against something extraordinary, it paled in comparison.

With her parents currently at work, Hermione had been left alone in good faith that she wouldn't do anything reckless. The letters that she wrote to her parents had told them of the great times she spent with her friends at Hogwarts but omitted the parts in which her life and the lives of her friends had been in mortal peril. Whilst exhilarating to say the least, these were days that she rather put behind her, lest she found herself in jeopardy of never returning to where her friends were located. A single worry from her parents and she feared that she would never be able to study in the Gryffindor common room again or see her friends.

Friends that didn't exist in London.

Hermione's parents fully believed that their daughter would be waiting for them to return, they were fully aware that the young girl had never breached into any social circles and had spent most of her time as a child in the library. The outside world wasn't one that had appeased to Hermione yet they had been thrilled that their daughter had something wonderful flowing through her veins, something that they had had to keep secret from everybody else. Whenever friends came to visit and would question where Hermione was, they would answer that she was doing very well at a prestigious school for gifted children.

Of course the people asking about Hermione were friends of the family, not friends of Hermione herself.

Hermione shook herself away from the thoughts that clouded her mind as she walked away from the window, no longer wishing to gaze upon the same view she had from day to day. She wished that she knew a spell to make time pass quicker, turn seconds into minutes so that this day would pass and she would be free once more to study what few in London would believe existed.

Slumping onto the sofa, her fingers graced across a magazine that her mother had brought back from the clinic. While the intellectual girl had already read every book contained within the dwelling, including the textbooks necessary for her next year's study that she had had delivered within the week the second year ended, she had avoided magazines like the plague.

The girl couldn't fathom why people depended on the gossip of celebrities or make-up tips from someone they'd likely never meet to get by from day to day. The mere thought of looking into one of these pieces of 'literature,' a term Hermione used lightly for such articles, had once forced bile to her throat. Considering she had been away from media for so long she didn't even know the man on the cover which the magazine proclaimed 'Sexiest Summer Bod.' Whether it was an actual celebrity or a model she couldn't tell the difference, none of them actually looked appealing to her.

Hermione was violently thrust out of her musings by a loud bang on the window which forced her to feet. Part of her wished that she had her wand on her as opposed to having it locked away in her trunk, but she knew that it would do no good other than a threat since she wasn't permitted to use magic outside of school until she graduated.

Pausing for a moment, she found herself looking at a sight nobody would usually come across in daytime London as a raggedy gray owl composed itself after having crashed into the window. It took a handful of seconds before Hermione's face became a beacon of joy merely on the prospect of someone she knew having spent the time and effort into writing to her, by owl no less. If the brown haired witch could put the sensation into a word, the closest she could come up with in her vocabulary was 'giddy.'

Rushing to the window she opened it and allowed the owl inside, molting feathers littering the carpet as the creature perched itself on the living room table. Closing the window, Hermione quickly ran to the kitchen and scrambled through the draws for a bowl which she filled with water. While she wanted to see who the message was from, she knew that the owl would be famished from such a long journey considering those she knew would write to her were located nowhere near the vicinity of her house.

Needless to say, the owl was grateful for the water and a plate with a couple of biscuits which her mother would usually have with her morning cup of tea. With the replenishments being distributed, Hermione untied the letter from the owl (whom she would ask the name of in the return as she didn't want to relate to the bird simply as 'the owl' for much longer than she had to) and unscrolled it. The first thing she noticed that the handwriting was neat, immediately ruling out Ron as the possible culprit of sending her the letter. Having asked her to go over his notes prior to exams for the past two years she was familiar with the ginger's handwriting and this, by all means, was not it. The other main culprit could have been Harry but Hermione was much more familiar with Hedwig, the snowy white owl that she was familiar with as opposed to the elderly gray owl sitting before her. It didn't take a genius to know that the two were different and thus Harry was not the culprit either.

Sadly that then reduced the number of people she could think that would write to her significantly.

Swallowing a lump that she hadn't realized had formed within her throat, Hermione drove into the letter with the speed and dedication that she would a textbook. The contents though made her pause only into the second sentence before she blinked a handful of times and returned to the start of the parchment, deliberately slowing herself down this time round.

 _Dear Hermione,_

 _I know this may seem unusual but I had nowhere else to turn with this matter as I do not trust my mother with this topic, as I do not want her spreading rumors, so I pestered my brother for your location until he gave it to me. Sadly though in exchange for your address I am forced to do his washing for the next week._

 _I write to you today looking at the number of crumpled up pieces of paper that overflow from my trash can to the point I wish I knew a spell to burn them all. Over and over again I tried to figure out how to ask the question so I'm sorry if this comes out terribly and if you choose to ignore this letter, just send Errol on his way._

 _I write to you today about Harry Potter._

 _I don't want to know about his history but more so about him as a person, from your perspective. I could ask my brothers but I know that they'll only tease me on the matter._

 _You see, the thing is, I don't quite know how I feel about him. He saved my life and for that I am forever grateful but how does one go about showing their gratitude especially considering it was such a big thing. I mean I can't really just go up to him and say thanks, can I? What can I do?_

 _Hopefully you can understand why I don't approach my family on the subject, and I hope to hear from you soon._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Ginny Weasley_

It was a rare occurrence for Hermione Granger to be at a loss for words, especially when she had been asked for advice. The topic though was one she wasn't even sure she could study and thus she had no answers at the time to send to the youngest Weasley.

Errol squaked at her, breaking Hermione out of her temporary slump (though she was glad that the owl's name was included in the letter), the plate in front of it having been emptied of all of the cat treats. Hermione mildly giggled at the irony of the situation as she got off of the sofa and picked up the kitchenware determined to fill it up once more while she composed her response.

The seemingly mundane task had brought Hermione back into action as she looked at the situation in front of her like an incredible challenge that one of her teacher's had assigned for her to answer. Unlike most of the questions the wizarding world threw at her, she had no textbooks to consult or library to rummage through.

This would be on her and her alone.

Briefly returning to the living room and depositing the treats in front of Errol she went to her room to retrieve a blank piece of parchment. She momentarily contemplated writing her reply in ink but chose against it, instead gathering a pencil and an eraser as she had the feeling that she would be redoing some lines in order to put in very 'select' wording.

Returning to the living room her eyes glazed across the sofa once more where her mother's magazine was. Pausing mid step, she believed that she had just found something that she could use as a reference, or at least she hoped there was an article inside that would kick start her reply.

Thus it was at this hour that Hermione Granger did the unthinkable as she picked up the women's magazine and dove into content inside.

...

The Burrow was never short of excitement during the school holidays, although Ginny found herself ambling about and trying not to get on the bad side of her brothers. Percy was always locked away in his room and her mother didn't want the youngest child 'disturbing' the prefect. Fred and George were always doing their thing, driving the rest of the family up the wall with their antics. Thankfully the two boys tended to leave her alone so she merely watched from the sidelines giggling along and hoping that she didn't become their target.

Ron was the best to play with as while he was still a year older he was much a child like herself. It had been easy to pry the information regarding where Hermione lived from her brother, she merely had had to sit through a handful of Wizard Chess games which she had learned that she was terrible at.

Ginny had sought out to write to Hermione for several reasons, the first and foremost being that for a majority of the previous schooling year she had not been herself by any means. Possessed and toyed with by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had isolated her from the rest of the first years who had avoided her, with good reason in hindsight. There were potential friendships there she had squandered due to the diary of the most evil man on the planet and she was unsure whether she'd ever be able to make up for lost time. Ron had let it slip at one point that outside of himself and Harry, he'd never seen Hermione really bond with anyone in a manner that most would relate to as friendship.

Thus Ginny had reached out to Hermione, hoping that the older and smarter girl would be able to help her with the problems she had been having.

The information she had put into her letter had been incredibly personal and she hoped that Hermione would understand the honesty she had put into it. Needless to say she hadn't shown her mother what she had written so she had little doubt that her writing had been full of grammatical errors and general parts that made little to no sense. She merely prayed that her meaning would get through.

Her failed attempts had been disposed of as soon as she had sent Errol on his way, the last thing she wanted was for her mother to come into her room for cleaning purposes to find out about her mental struggles. Molly Weasley wasn't exactly the best at keeping secrets and the last thing Ginny wanted was for the local community to discover that she had a crush on her brother's best friend; a best friend who was also a celebrity in his own right.

From the fragmented memories she had of the year she could always recall Harry's smile and infectious laugh, as if just being himself was able to help her temporarily break out of the trance the diary had her under. Was there something about him that just drove away He-Who-Should-Not-Be-Named much like how he had survived the killing curse as an infant?

Pure speculation aside there was also the plain as day fact that a boy of twelve years old had killed a sixty foot Basilisk and destroyed the captivation diary whilst rescuing her, a job he shouldn't have been doing in the first place. Yet he had put his very life at risk in an attempt to protect hers just because he could. He should never have needed to do that for her, frankly the school should have been closed town the moment the petrifications began but she was beginning to digress.

Ever since she had been rescued she had no idea what to think of Harry. She was grateful by all means but she had no idea how to repay her gratitude. A very familiar thud caused her attention to shift to the nearby window where Errol had just crashed into. Before her mother could even ponder who had sent them mail, Ginny had rushed to the family pet and snagged the letter off of it's leg, giving the owl a quick scratch behind the ear for doing good work.

She could hear her mother call out but she paid it little attention as she rushed up the stairs towards her room, not daring to open up the rolled up parchment in her hand until she was hidden away. She was quite aware of her immature behaviour and she merely prayed that her mother wouldn't bring up the topic and respect her personal life.

Closing the door behind her, Ginny allowed several seconds to pass, ensuring that there was no sound of anybody coming up to her room at that moment in time. Once feeling secure, she opened up the parchment and ignored foremostly what the writing was written in as she focused solely on the content.

Little did either girl realize the ramifications these things would have on a future that even the greatest of seers couldn't predict.

...

 **This is my first time writing a Harry Potter story so I hoped you enjoyed.**

 **Til next time, peace.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

 **...**

Hermione sat in her bedroom as she watched the lights of the bustling city dance against the darkness of the night, her mind still completely fixated on the letter that she had written to Ginny. It had taken her much longer than she had anticipated, having to go through several of her mother's magazines searching for appropriate sections which she could use as resource material. Thankfully she managed to have sent off the letter twenty minutes prior to her mother returning from work, she wouldn't know what the woman would say if she saw Errol nibbling away while perched upon the tabletop.

Hermione had been thorough in her clean up however and she had not left a trace of anything that had been left out of the ordinary. That one word though was a difficult one for the brown haired student to use these days, 'ordinary' was something she had forgotten when she had started attending Hogwarts. 'Normality' was learning how to change a tortoise into a teacup or watching a sport comprised of students flying through the air. The sports based in London were much more boring in comparison, she hadn't had much interest in watching men kicking a ball around a pitch but she could rarely drag her eyes off of the seeker hunting down the snitch.

She had never thought about doing such a dangerous activity herself, although she didn't know how good she would be on a broom these days after having performed so poorly in her first lesson with Madam Hooch she hadn't even considered doing much more with the flying utensil. Arguably it had been a year since she had touched a broom but she could still recall the feeling of the wind in her hair and the joy she had felt being a handful of feet off the ground going faster than most London traffic.

A small smile crossed her face as she decided at that moment to ask Harry once they got back to Hogwarts if she could have a ride on his Nimbus 2000, although she felt like she'd have to promise that she'd not go too fast. She had Harry go at top speed on the broom but knew that she would be much too frightened to go at those speeds without a bit of practise first.

Refocusing on the topic at hand, she predicted that she would be receiving a letter from Ginny by Errol within the coming days provided the young girl had time to write without her family's knowledge. Other potential delays she considered would be another member of the Weasley's using their owl for another purpose or, heavens forbid, the grey calamity just up and died. While the last option was quite gut wrenching Hermione had to admit that it wasn't in the best of conditions.

She swallowed a lump in her throat as she silently prayed that Errol had made the return journey.

Then the greater question would be how Ginny interpreted her reply. Trying to fit into the younger girl's shoes had been difficult and the only real time when she had had a similar experience (or at least something remotely familiar) had been when she had been attacked by the Mountain Troll in the first year. She had been helpless against the giant beast, absolutely petrified and if it weren't for Harry and Ron (whom if it wasn't for the git she would never have been in that situation). Even now she could hear Harry's command, yelling at her to move to which she had done so without even thinking about it. The power he had emanated, she had little doubt that if Harry wished to become a prefect down the line he would be able to get the position easily and not just because of his history.

She could still remember him perched atop the shoulders of the troll, trying to control it like a rodeo bull while she quivered underneath a sink. The danger he had put herself in had saved her life and she could only contemplate at that moment what she had given him in return. She had gotten them out of trouble by lying to the professors there at the time and received what she hoped would be the only time she would be directly responsible for points being taken away from Gryffindor.

Then they had upped the ante by giving her something she would never have been able to give them; friendship.

It was that moment Hermione realized that she, like Ginny, had yet to pay Harry back for rescuing her life. For a moment she wondered if she owed Ron the same courtesy but she recalled how she had been the one to save him from Devil's Snare (which when she thought about it seemed like a stupid trap for anybody who had a basic knowledge of Herbology). Since then it had been a back and forth owing to and fro with Ron but not with Harry. Harry was always those few extra steps ahead and she didn't think of anything at that moment in time to how she could pay him back.

With troubled thoughts plaguing her mind, Hermione crawled under her blanket and placed her head upon her pillow knowing that sleep would not be easy to come by tonight.

...

Night had long since settled and nobody within the Burrow stirred other than the youngest member of the family, a lone candle illuminating her room. To ensure that her late night activities went unnoticed she had barricaded the bottom of the door with her dirty laundry to muffle the sound of her reading and block out the light. She was certain though if any member of her family went downstairs and by chance looked at the family clock they would find her name not under 'Fast Asleep' but rather 'Studying.'

If her mother or father were to knock on her door and intrude on her privacy she had already put her previous years textbooks atop her desk to convince her parents that she was revising. This couldn't have been farther from the truth as she was currently writing away at her reply to Hermione, having not trust herself to do it immediately after having read the girl's advice.

The main question though was what could she offer Harry that nobody else could?

Hermione had suggested to do something utilising the world that she and Harry had only stepped in to two years prior and show him something that he wouldn't discover on his own. She did have to admit though that this advice was much better than the advice her mother likely would have given her as she assumed Molly Weasley would have told her to knit a scarf or something personal. While that idea had crossed into her mind it didn't technically scream 'Thank you for saving my life.'

Ginny had opted to look at her eldest brother's studies, knowing full well that Bill had tackled some of the most difficult topics during his time at Hogwarts. Thus here she was, reading an a copy of 'International Magic:Wizardry of the World' which Ginny assumed Bill had used for a History essay. The topic had sounded quite boring externally but she had to admit once she had opened up the list of contents she was surprised to see just how expansive the world of magic really was.

She had opted to skip most of the oldest forms of magic that the book had to offer as Ginny severely doubted that she would need a blood sacrifice to perform what it was that she needed to create in the end. She had started on magic created a couple thousand years prior before an elongated yawn escaped her lips and VCCCCCuld do no good. As much as she hated to admit it she was still a young girl and would need her rest otherwise her mother would grow suspicious of her late night activities come morning when she arrived late at the breakfast table.

Blowing out the candle, Ginny allowed darkness to encompass her room as she strolled over to her bed, opening a small window as she did so as to allow fresh air inside. As she snuggled underneath her sheets she was oblivious as the wind flipped over several pages of the book she had been going through. Come morning she would both never be able to find where she had been and hardly want to look elsewhere.

...

Hermione sat within the confines of her room, not wishing to venture into the living room as her mother had the day off of work and was currently watching whatever mindless dribble was on the television. Hermione could barely stand the thing and stayed as far away from it as possible. The only time that she would be subjected to the 'idiot box,' as she had so aptly named it when she was younger, would be the news or an international sporting event where her father would forcibly tell her to support their country.

She still didn't understand why yelling at television within the confines of one's own home was meant to help someone hundreds of miles away perform better.

Whilst awaiting the startling thud which would announce Errol's arrival (she had a distinct feeling that the owl couldn't tell the difference between a window that was open and one that was closed) she had set about going through her second year Defence Against the Dark Arts books; otherwise known as Gilderoy Lockhart's biography. She had set about the dubious task of removing all of the useless content, which sadly consisted of a vast majority, to focus on what actually had been going on and what they could potentially encounter. Hermione wasn't superstitious by any means but considering that she had encountered both a troll and a basilisk during her years at Hogwarts (which only started the list of things which had tried to kill her or her friends) she wasn't taking any risks.

The book that they would be covering this year had been much more detailed on the Defence Against the Dark Arts topic that they would be encountering and had given a much detailed list on the magical creatures of the world that could give them some trouble down the road along with a brief synopsis of what to do in the scenario. While Gilderoy Lockhart hadn't accomplished the feats he had claimed to have by himself he had met with people who had and their actions were recorded within his tomes. On a couple of his quests she had to imagine that the former professor had cut out a lot of the boring parts as it would hurt his sales so she had to imagine what had happened during those periods.

Upon trying to decipher from his coding the best way to tackle a troll head on without having to pray on one's friends to rescue you, Hermione was startled by the thump against the window which could only mean one thing and she couldn't help but beam lightly as she turned her attention to find the identical owl from the previous day. "Hello Errol," she said as she opened the window and allowed the owl inside, giving it a scratch behind the ear for good measure before taking the parchment attached to it's leg.

Hermione took a deep breath before she unrolled the paper in her hands. The advice she had given the youngest Weasley had been as honest as she could have been without forcing unnecessary information down the young girl's throat. She had pillaged through many of her mother's magazines in order to get an accurate result before placing it in her own words and while she may have passed every essay with flying colours this was a whole different kettle of fish. She had no idea how Ginny would have reacted to her words and she could only hope for the best as she opened it up.

Skim reading through the compulsory introduction, Hermione's eyes became fixated as several words in the second paragraph stood out to the point where she couldn't progress any further until she had worked out just what they meant.

 _The Red Thread of Fate_

 _..._

 **Hope you enjoyed, let me know what you think.**

 **Peace**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

 **...**

Hermione rummaged through the library, her eyes flicking from history book to history book knowing that one of these possibly contained the answers that she had been looking for. Ginny had given her minimal information in regards to what the Red Thread of Fate actually was and she couldn't for the life of her figure out what it actually was.

She wasn't sure if she would be able to find something within the muggle library but it was better than sitting around pondering just what Ginny was up to, the girl's last letter having been rushed to the point where nothing other than the title was given. The reason she was browsing the history section was because she had full belief that something that had been unexplainable centuries and even millennia prior she would be able to explain now. Nobody of course would believe her if she told them that this event had occurred with the use of magic and they'd laugh it off and tell her how adorable she was.

Her eyes glanced towards a clock hanging on the wall informing her that her time within her sanctuary was quickly coming to an end as her mother would be returning soon to pick her up. "Excuse me," said a young woman as she reached over Hermione to grasp at one of the books, Hermione politely stepping out of the way to allow the woman access. The Hogwarts student had to do a double take however as she glanced at the red string bracelet around the woman's wrist, a sign of something important or a mere coincidence she couldn't tell.

Hermione rarely found herself at a loss for words and part of her struggled to ask the question she knew she wanted to ask. Yet this woman was not one of her teacher's and had no reason to give her an answer, let alone the one she was searching for. Was this a fashion trend, a religious item or something actually magical hidden in plain sight? The main thing Hermione had to decide though would be whether or not she kept chasing this lead or continued her search elsewhere because as great as this idea was she couldn't be certain that this was what Ginny was after. It was with that thought in her mind that forced Hermione to move towards the library exit with no more answers than what she had come in with.

Shaking her head, Hermione realised that she had been heading down the path of speculation. She had no certainties at this point and until such a time would wait it out. Ginny would hopefully be getting back to her within the next day or two (provided that Errol wasn't needed for other uses) and Hermione would get the necessary answers. The statement that Ginny had sent her had merely said that when she had been looking through her brother's old books she had stumbled across something she believed would work perfectly. Hermione wondered whether or not the spell/item had wanted to be found considering how quickly Ginny's dilemma had apparently been rectified.

She hated it but she Hermione knew she'd have to adopt the wait and see approach for the moment and could only wait for the familiar near breakage of the window.

...

Several days had passed since the event down in the library and Hermione had managed to successfully fill in her time by looking over all of the essays she had to have completed by the time the school term started once again. Of course all of the reports had already been completed well in advance and now Hermione merely nitpicked at her wording to ensure that nothing less than perfection was achieved. All of her work however was done in ink which meant that for the moment she could do nothing until she got back to Hogwarts and used a spell to change one word into another.

Needless to say that spell was quite a convenient one.

Having completed her task for the day, Hermione closed her textbooks and left the safety of her bedroom to head towards the kitchen to get herself a glass of water. Once more she found herself alone with her parents away at their workplace for the day although they had made mention that they were planning a family holiday to France before Hermione had to return to Hogwarts. Whilst Hermione was looking forward to the event she was also aware that when she was out of the country the timing would coincide with Harry's birthday and she would have to spend her first couple days on holiday looking for something to send her friend. She also had to figure out a way to send it to Harry and she didn't think standard mail would successfully reach the boy if the way he talked about his relatives was anything to go by.

As if to answer her dilemma, a slam on the nearby window broke her out of her train of thought to reveal Errol. A smile plastered itself on her lips as she quickly set about allowing her feathered friend inside and setting up a small rest and recuperation area. It was as she was putting together the food she noticed that Errol wasn't carrying just one letter but two with one being tied to each leg. Her curiosity peaking, she quickly put down the bowl of biscuits for the elderly owl before taking the first letter off. As she looked at the first few words she could quickly recognize the nearly incomprehensible writing that told her the letter was from Ron (the fact that he hadn't had an essay failed due to poor handwriting astounded her).

 _Hey Hermione_

 _Just writing to warn you not to call Harry over the telmaphone,I did about a week ago and somebody else started talking to me but they said that Harry didn't live there. I don't know how muggles are meant to communicate through it but I worked out because they are so far away you have to yell really loud in order to talk to one another. Muggle's sure have some weird items, no offence to your parents if they own a telmaphone._

 _Anyways, I hope you're having a great holiday and want to hear all about it when we get back to Hogwarts._

 _See you soon_

 _Ron_

Biting at the inside of her lip, Hermione quickly set about writing her reply effectively thanking Ron for his warning and informing him about the proper use of a telephone. She didn't particularly blame him for his lack of knowledge but she did find it her responsibility as a member of a muggle household to teach him in this regard. She did contemplate attatching her home phone number but chose not to until she believed that Ron would be able to hold a conversation on a telephone at an appropriate noise level. The last thing she needed was for him to call up and yell at her parents, as interesting a story as that may turn out to be.

With her quest to rectify Ron's knowledge completed, Hermione turned her attention to the second letter with this one being from Ginny. Unlike Ron's letter which was directly asking her not to do something, Ginny's was a lot longer and Hermione couldn't help but feel as if Ginny was appreciating the fact that she had someone close to her in age which she could talk to outside of school.

 _Dear Hermione_

 _I apologize for not having gone into detail in regards to the Red Thread of Fate as I had only stumbled upon it in the morning I sent you my letter and at the time knew very little about it myself. I regret to inform that the amount that I still know remains very little other than it is a talisman designed to protect someone, or so Bill's books proclaim._

 _The Red Thread of Fate is created with the intention of fusing several protection spells into a single item of clothing like a necklace. If what I can see from this is true I can make one when we get back to Hogwarts and give it to Harry and in a way it'll be as if he's carrying his own personal protective ward. I really don't understand why people don't do something like this more often._

 _I'm sorry about the delay from Errol, Mum had sent him off for a contest with the Daily Prophet and he got lost on the way back. We're not sure where he went but considering his wings were full of soot we can only assume it was a chimney somewhere._

 _Anyways I have to trail off there as I know I have limited time to write this reply without my family getting suspicious. Thankfully I know that Ron will want to send you a letter shortly, in regards to what I don't know, so I'll have Errol deliver both at once._

 _Thank you for everything._

 _Ginny Weasley_

Hermione smiled now having some context to put the Red Thread of Fate into. Thankfully what Ginny had decided to do seemed like a nice enough gift for her to bestow Harry and she couldn't help but giggle on the notion that Ginny was unsure how to give the gift to Harry. Pulling out a piece of parchment in which to send her reply, Hermione would be sure to note that she'd be glad to help get Harry alone in a situation in where the gift could be given out of prying eyes. She would also put in her message that she'd be glad to add any extra protection charms that Ginny was unaware of but wouldn't take credit for it. Somehow she felt like this was substantial as it was too late for her to say thanks after all this time but she could still add her part. It would be quite surprising if Ginny knew more spells in this department than herself but considering the young Weasley had grown up in a magical household there was a possibility that Ginny knew simpler spells that she had overlooked during her studies.

Briefly pausing from her letter, Hermione looked out the window at the brightly lit sky and silently prayed that Harry would appreciate Ginny's gift. It was clear that the young girl had put a lot of thought into the entire scenario and it was clear that this was indeed something that she felt had to be done. Hermione couldn't help but admire Ginny's drive and hoped that Harry would be able to see the amount of effort that the youngest Weasley had put into her idea.

With one final fleeting thought her mind raced over Harry and wondered what he was doing at the moment. Like Ron, she too had been given Harry's number but she didn't particularly want to hear the wrath of Harry's uncle and she had serious doubts that her peer would be the first person to answer the phone, provided he was home at all. Considering all that Harry had said, if he wasn't locked away she could imagine that he would want to spend as little time in the presence of his relatives as possible.

...

Adorned in his cousin's old Physical Education gear, Harry felt a cold shiver run down his spine before composing himself once more and continuing on his jog. He'd been getting a lot of those shivers as of late and was wondering whether or not he had picked something up when returning back to his home away from home.

Crawling to a standstill, Harry wiped the sweat off his brow with the back of his forearm and looked up at the sky to try and gauge the time. After having done the numerous jobs that his aunt and uncle has instructed him to do to perfection he had told them that he was going out and would be back in time to make dinner. Whether or not they had heard him he couldn't tell, if he didn't come back at all they probably wouldn't notice.

He had been taking these jogs at least twice a week since the school term had ended and appreciated the time outside of both the house and the neighbourhood. He wasn't quite sure what his uncle had told the neighbours but whenever he passed them he could see them grip their children's hands tighter whilst sending venomous glares in his direction. Part of Harry knew that it was probably better not to ask.

Whilst on the surface it looked as if Harry was merely taking these runs to keep himself in shape he knew that Oliver would have his head if he wasn't fit enough for the Seeker position once Quidditch season started again. The jogging was also helping him build on his endurance, which seemingly was a necessity after having to sprint as fast as his legs could take him near the end of the year to ensure he wasn't bitten by a sixty foot serpent.

Fun times indeed.

Feeling the wind running through his hair, Harry took a few seconds to admire the scenery of the nearby park where parents were playing with their children. He had never had such affection when he was younger but he was sure as hell that he'd give his own children the love and respect they deserved. Focusing back on the activity at hand, Harry ignored the burning sensation starting to tingle in his calves as he resumed his run and hoped that he would be able to avoid whatever fury his uncle had against him when he returned. If there was one thing for certain in the Dursley household was that if anything went wrong, Harry was the first person to blame.

These outings, however short they may have been, allowed him just that little sense of freedom and time to contemplate what was next to come. When at home and not under the command of his only living relatives he had to search through textbooks in order to track down the correct answer for the number of essays everybody had been assigned. Unlike Hermione who had probably already finished them, Harry had chosen to drag them out as long as possible in order to continuously remind himself that the world of magic still waited for him.

Despite there still being quite some time until he boarded the Hogwarts Expres he knew that the wait would be worth it.

Sadly, he had little idea of what fate had in store for him.

...

 **Hope you enjoyed**

 **And so ends the prequel, now, onto the real fun begins**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

...

Ginny sat aboard the Hogwarts Express amongst the other second year Gryffindor students, each of them buzzing with excitement in regards to what the new year would bring. Thankfully she was already aware of what most of her studies would entail, having many older brothers and one very enlightened pen pal had ensured her that she would be more than prepared for the theory which would be coming her way.

Throughout the rest of the holidays, other than the time when the both of them had been in different parts of the world, Ginny and Hermione had remained in contact with each other giving Errol a workout the elderly owl likely hadn't been through before. Although considering how old their feathered pet was, she had to consider the miles Errol had travelled.

Her attention was brought back to reality when one of her fellow students asked her what she had done over the holidays. Immediately she brightened up as she began to break down the holiday to Egypt and how much fun she had had. She wasn't sure if it was through her constant communication with Hermione but she was using a much broader vocabulary than she would normally use and it was clear her descriptions of Egypt were drawing more people's attention.

Either that or they were surprised to see her so full of life after the previous year.

Whatever the case, Ginny allowed a broad smile to cross her features as she got her peers laughing as she explained how Fred and George had done their best attempt to lock the Gryffindor Prefect inside of a pyramid. She also went on to explain how different the magic across the world was and when someone asked her if she had seen any flying carpets Ginny astounded them by telling how she had actually ridden one.

The screeching of brakes caused the conversation going on to immediately cease and curiosity to peak before the lights went out, several of the young students unable to suppress a small screen. A couple of the calmer students did their best to assure the rest that it was merely a bit of trouble with the engine and everything would be alright soon. Ginny meanwhile couldn't help but feel that this was merely the beginning of something far worse than engine failure.

The inquisitive mood was shattered however as the glass to the locomotive began to freeze over and the young girls began to panic, scrambling to get as far away from the outside as possible. Arguably since the train ride was miserable to look at considering the absolute downpour that was happening it had become terrifying when a wispy black shadow swept through view causing a few shrill screams to let out, even more ringing out as the train lurched back and forth a few feet.

As breaths became visible and the temperature continued to plummet, Ginny rubbed at her arms in a desperate attempt to bring some warmth back into her body to little effect. It was then that she started to feel the happiness drain from her soul and she was painfully reminded of the sensation of being compelled to write in You-Know-Who's journal.

Shivers ran down her spine as she was compelled to look over her shoulder towards the carriage pathway, immediately regretting her decision as she saw the skeleton like fingers extend from a tattered robe. The humanesque creature towered above them yet Ginny was unable to see the features clearly through the glass but knew that she didn't want to. At the same time though she couldn't bring herself to look away from fear what such a menacing monster would do behind her back. Every fibre of her being wished for her to flee to the furthest corner of the carriage but she was rooted to the spot from fear that sudden movement would attract the abomination.

Dread poured into her soul as Ginny prayed that the creature didn't enter the room.

Nobody dared move as the shadowy figure glided past the room, seemingly uninterested with the school children huddled within. Collected breathing was the only sound being made within the carriage as the lights flickered back on and the wheels of the train began to move once more. The young girls couldn't bolster the courage to speak, every strand of joy seemingly torn from their body. The feeling was painfully familiar to Ginny and because of this she was the one who had taken the least amount of mental damage, something which she could immediately tell.

That scared her.

The red haired girl wanted to say something, anything in an attempt to cheer up those around her much like they had done for her not ten minutes prior yet she could do nothing. Any words she tried to form got caught in her throat, any thought became a jumbled mess and every action her limbs would not respond to.

Was she truly so powerless? Was there nothing she could do?

The door slid open and Ginny raised her head to spot a girl roughly their age with pale blonde hair with an incredibly large bundle of chocolate in her hands, shattering the sensation of dread that had only seconds ago filled the compartment. Whether absolute confusion was a better scenario was the next question. "Now that the Dementor has gone, can I offer anybody something sweet?" she asked. The complete change of mood seemed to be exactly what the Gryffindor students needed.

Their choruses of 'yes' rung out and they each received a piece of chocolate, Ginny quickly devouring hers. The young red head looked around and saw that everyone's spirits had seemed to gain their previous glow as if the Dementor (if what the girl had called it was indeed it's actual name) was nothing more than a bad dream.

"If you'll excuse me, I'm going to go hand these out to everyone else."

"Wait," said Ginny as she stood up, unable to momentarily comprehend her movements.

"Would you like some more?" asked the girl.

"Can I help?" said Ginny asking a question to the question. The other Gryffindors looked perplexed by their peers suggestion but said nothing against it.

"If you wish, your assistance would be much appreciated," replied the girl, beckoning Ginny to follow her with a shrug of the shoulder. Having verbally committed herself to the task, Ginny told her carriage comrades that she would be back later before entering the train corridor where her hands were swiftly enveloped in her companion's chocolate.

"If you don't mind me asking," said Ginny as she shuffled on the spot to ensure that none of the sweets crashed to the floor. "Why do you have so much chocolate?"

"Last year I struggled to make friends, so I had intended to purchase their friendship but I decided that this was a much more important usage of my goods and hope that my kindness would reward me with friends."

Ginny struggled to fully grasp the answer before she steeled herself and prepared her next words carefully. "If you'd like, I'll be your friend."

"You don't have to do such a thing now that I have informed you of my plight, I realise now that it was quite shallow of me to think that something as genuine as friendship could be purchased."

"No, I mean it, I struggled with making friends as well, I'd love for you to be my first friend," said Ginny honestly.

The pair of them stood in the corridor for several seconds as the girl mused in regards to what her response would be. "I think that would be quite nice," she finally said, allowing Ginny to release a breath she hadn't realised she was holding.

"I'm Ginny Weasley," introduced the second year Gryffindor student.

"Luna Lovegood," replied the blonde haired girl. "Now I highly suggest that we get moving less we are attacked by a horde of wrackspurts."

"Wrackspurts?"

...

Hermione sat at the banquet table, the glorious feast present in front of her now that Dumbledore had finished his beginning of semester spiel. Somehow the warnings of Sirius Black and the Dementors patrolling the outer perimetre seemed rather tame; a disturbing thought.

Instead of gorging on the mountains of food in front of her like her fellow students, her eyes were locked onto the head table where all the professors were located. Hermione's pupils had latched onto the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, the one who had driven the Dementor away from their carriage, the vile creature nothing against the magic he had produced. Perhaps this year they would have a teacher capable of teaching the subject.

After he had given Harry the chocolate to help him recover some of his strength, the professor had headed off to track down the conductor to discuss something. Hermione could only assume what he had asked but there was no doubt in her mind that the words he had used had been much more forceful than the calm tone he had used amongst her and her friends. She was mildly upset that he had rushed off so quickly as she had wanted to inquire about the magic he had used and how difficult it was to learn.

Having seen something like that close up, there was no way she didn't want to learn it. Especially if the school was going to be surrounded by the Dementors.

With several ideas flowing through her mind, she tried to turn her attention to the food at hand only to pause when her eyes met Ginny's. Despite the fact they had talked dozens of times by letter the two had yet to share a word, having only briefly seen one another before boarding the Hogwarts Express. The determination in the girl's eyes was easily understood by Hermione and the intellectual girl couldn't help but wonder if this was due to the Dementor appearance.

A silent nod was shared between the two Gryffindor students before they set about the consuming the food in front of them. Both of them knew however that their night wouldn't end after the feast.

Their brief exchange hadn't gone completely unnoticed however. Harry, who had been reeling from the information that Dumbledore had given them in regards to the Dementors, had been unable to form anything resembling hunger and the food in front of him wasn't appealing despite how glorious it looked. Whilst most people would recommend that he eat at that time, years of malnourishment from the Dursleys had ensured that Harry wouldn't go hungry by one night without a meal.

Instead of retiring to the common room early and giving Draco more to tease him about. So he had taken to merely people watching, most of the students unaware of his gaze sweeping over them. From the conversations he could make out amongst all the clatter of cutlery the topic of chatter mainly centred around the escaped Azkaban prisoner. Upon the train Harry had confined his belief to Ron and Hermione that he believed Sirius Black had escaped Azkaban to hunt him down, most likely to finish what Voldemort had started.

Harry couldn't help but feel there was something more to this, something he was being kept in the dark deliberately. There had to be, otherwise he wouldn't have been warned both by the Minister of Magic and Arthur Weasley. What it was however was something that he would likely not know until they believed he was ready, or even then he would likely be without an answer. As humorous as it sounded he severely doubted anybody would give him the answer to 'Why is Sirius Black trying to kill me?' Well Professor Snape would probably do it if the answer was vile but Harry wasn't going to ask the potions teacher anything.

Harry's eyes briefly made contact with Ginny and the younger girl quickly shrunk in on herself, ducking her head so that she was staring at the table. Harry wasn't sure if he'd done something wrong or if the youngest Weasley was upset with him and somehow he doubted Ron had the answers. Maybe Hermione would know considering his best friend was not an expert in regards to women.

Or maybe this was a topic he just shouldn't look into and wait until they had a Sex Ed class...did Hogwarts even have Sex Ed?

Pushing that thought to the side, Harry noticed that Ron had moved on from the main attraction to desert signalling that he would be heading up to the common room relatively soon. Needless to say, Harry was looking forward to getting out of the dining room and into the sanctuary where he would be spending the coming months with his fellow third year Gryffindors. With everything going on however, all the miseries that seemed to be surround both Hogwarts and himself, he couldn't help but feel excited for the coming school term and he wondered what was just around the corner.

...

Hermione sat by the fire in the common room, most of her fellow students asleep considering the unreasonable hour it was. With her knees pressed to her chest, she looked over her Defence Against the Dark Arts book once more and was mildly annoyed to find that the literary tomb failed to mention anything about Dementors. Considering that the nightmarish beings answered only to the Ministry it seemed appropriate that the answer to defeating them wasn't lying around in a schoolbook. Steps echoed through the room, Hermione turning her head to the side to see the person she had expected to see holding a cauldron as well as several pieces of red thread.

It was time.

...

 **Hope you enjoyed**

 **Peace**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

...

It wasn't uncommon for students who woke in the middle of the night to find somebody else in the common room either unable to sleep or adding that extra bit of attention to an essay. It was almost common courtesy to ask whether or not they could be of some assistance in regards to giving out pointers or having a read through of the paper. If someone was to come into the general area at that moment in time however, there likely wasn't much they could do to help.

Despite her professor giving her barely passable marks, Hermione was undoubtedly one of the best potions students that had tread foot into the dungeons for years. With the instructions laid out in front of her from the old textbook that Ginny had brought with her from home, not only that but she had purchased the necessary ingredients by informing her mother it was for her studies. Considering that the Weasley household had indeed come into quite a bit of cash due to their prize winnings, Molly had given little thought to the list that she sent off for having no need to skimp out on little details for the foreseeable future. As such, the Weasley patriarch had merely glanced at the top of the list and upon recognising the first few items as those which would be covered she had trusted her daughter before sending off for the essentials for schooling.

Hermione had never used these ingredients before but they weren't anything particularly difficult to get hold of, at least she assumed so. There had been a vial of blood (there hadn't been any specific blood required in the ingredients so Hermione was unsure what creature she was technically pouring into the cauldron), Alraune nectar, Salamander scales, two grounded falcon feathers (one from each wing) and finally Kappa toes. Considering the small list of ingredients the two falcon feathers seemed the most out of place but Hermione paid it no mind as she continued to stir the ingredients at the proper rate over the fireplace. Ginny meanwhile was as quietly as possible shooting spell after spell into the liquid (which by this stage had somehow turned as white as snow,), everything ranging from simple shield spells to hex repellants, heat wards and minor laceration skin repairs.

After Hermione finished adding in her spells, she pulled back, allowing Ginny full access to put in the threads. Hermione had asked her earlier why she had three pieces of thread and Ginny had explained that she wanted to hand it off as if they had made extra between them and decided to give Harry the leftover charm. Hermione hadn't said anything in response but it was quite clear that the youngest Weasley was still highly timid and wasn't sure about her feelings at this point. Plus Hermione, despite all of her research over the summer break, hadn't been able to construct a different scenario that they could use in the situation that would be less awkward.

She figured that puberty would hit eventually and she would potentially care from that point onward. No guarantees though.

Hermione watched as Ginny inserted the threads and watched as the colour from them immediately bled into the cauldron's contents, turning the mixture a vibrant shade of red before all of the liquid was absorbed by the material. "So it's done," said Hermione.

"Yep," said Ginny as she took the cauldron off of the fire and used a pair of tongs to pull the threads out and laying them on the table. In absorbing the contents they had transformed quite severely in thickness roughly being the size of a finger. "They're a bit bigger than I thought they would be."

"I guess you could turn them into bracelets," said Hermione, Ginny immediately nodding before doing as the older student had suggested. Whilst Ginny set about constructing the fashion accessory, Hermione contemplated what it was they had in front of them and was biting at her inner lip. Something about this just didn't seem right, they had such a powerful charm in front of them and it hadn't taken longer than an hour to create. Not only that but it was a good trinket, something to defend them against basic attacks along with everything else that the two young witches had infused it with. The thing that bugged her about this was why wasn't everyone making these?

Whatever this had cost the young girl could easily be purchased by nearly anybody and it wasn't difficult to brew by any means. Heck she could have done it in her first year with one hand tied behind her back. So why were they never used?

Her internal rant was shattered as the sound of footsteps echoed through the common room, Ginny and Hermione freezing in place as if they'd been caught with their hand in the cookie jar. The entire time they had been at it not a soul had entered the common room and of course as soon as they get to the final stage someone would come in.

And of course it had to be Harry.

Harry stood there uncertain as he looked at the two girls, both of them gawking at him with their mouths open. Harry himself was unsure why he was up but he had been compelled to remain awake; he wasn't hungry, thirsty or needed to go to the bathroom but he felt that being in bed at that moment was the wrong thing to do. Thus he had stepped out of the bedroom wondering whether or not he would find the reason he couldn't sleep.

He had no idea that it would literally be in front of him.

"What are you guys doing?" he asked.

Hermione knew that it wasn't her place to say anything so stepped back a couple of paces to ensure that the focus for Harry was on Ginny, the youngest Weasley having just finished tying the final bracelet. The red haired girl was fidgeting nervously as she tried to form words to no luck, her arms flailing as she tried to recall her story. "Well," she finally said knowing that there was no real way out of the situation. Sure she had been caught off guard at a late hour but she was going to do it eventually. "You see, the thing is, Hermione and I, we were trying to make some protective charms and we succeeded but we made too many, so...umm...you know, if you would like to have one you can, only if you want to of course, it's not like I'm forcing you to take it but know that..."

"I'll take it, thank you," said Harry cutting Ginny off having the feeling that the younger girl would just continue to loop on her speech until she fainted from lack of oxygen intake.

"Really? I-I mean sure, have this one," said Ginny as she walked forward and passed Harry the bracelet.

Harry held the gift that he had just been given, already knowing how much effort had been put into it. Ginny had said that they had just made spares but he could see straight through her lie, knowing full well that the younger girl just wasn't sure how to do something like this. Heck even he wouldn't know how to give somebody a gift if it wasn't their birthday or Christmas.

So he could do nothing but smile as he put the bracelet on his wrist, watching as Hermione and Ginny did the same thing. "Alright then," said Hermione. "I believe that that is enough late night shenanigans for the time being, if we don't get some manner of sleep then we're not going to get to our classes tomorrow."

"Okay," said Ginny, her breathing pattern having returned to normal.

"Umm, Hermione, Ginny, what is this bracelet meant to do exactly?" asked Harry as he looked at his wrist. Unsure of what he was talking about, both girls looked at their own appendages and at the accessory they had just put on.

It was not what they expected.

The bands were shrinking, painfully so as it started burn, melting into the skin. Ginny was the first to scream as the searing heat began to eat into her flesh. It wasn't long after before Harry and Hermione couldn't help themselves, Harry even dropping to his knees as he tried to tear the bracelet off to no avail. The bracelet itself began to tear itself into smaller strands, the thread acting with a mind of it's own as tendrils started spreading up and down the arm, intense heat following with every bit that stuck to the skin.

Harry could hear movement around them but couldn't even look up from his arm as the pain increased. Ginny and Hermione were faring no better and the two of them sounded as if they belonged in the historic Shrieking Shack, if only to make it live up to it's name.

Harry was unsure who it was who casted the spell on them in the end, but despite the intense heat searing his arm he could feel his eyelids grow heavy and he was forced into unconsciousness.

...

"...is there anything we can do for them Albus?"

"I'm afraid Minerva that there is only one option."

"Well why haven't we done it yet?"

"Because it's not something we can do."

The conversation came to a halt as both professors noticed the small movement made by Harry, his eyelids slowly opening to reveal that it was still night. While confused, the teenager couldn't have been happier with the knowledge that his arm didn't feel as if it was on fire. Whether or not that was a good thing was hard to tell.

Opening his eyes fully, he reached across to where he knew the bedside table would be where he fumbled around before his fingers finally grasped onto his glasses. "Before you put them on Harry, I must warn you that what you might see may shock you," said the ever familiar voice of the Hogwarts Headmaster. Harry paused at the warning Dumbledore had just given him before he put on his glasses and pushed himself into a seated position. Considering Madam Pomfrey wasn't yelling at him and telling him to rest he assumed that she wasn't in the room or the better possibility, that she was treating Hermione and Ginny.

"Mr Potter, show us your arm," instructed Professor McGonagall. "If what we believe is true then you are in grave danger."

Harry paused at the irony in that statement, already having been attacked by Dementors before school even started and that a serial killer was possibly hunting him down. Surely this couldn't be that terrible. He wondered when he started taking death so lightly.

Lifting his arm up to his eyeline, Harry could see that the bracelet that Ginny had given him earlier no longer existed. Instead the red threads had burned their way onto his skin in a pattern that would likely be mistaken for a tribal tattoo. The thin lines covered about six inches of his arm, the intertwining lines as black as charcoal. Despite the fact it had hurt like nothing else he couldn't help but admit that it did look cool.

He silently hoped that Ron wouldn't want one.

"Thanks for stopping it," said Harry.

"It wasn't us who stopped it Harry, it finished what it was meant to do," declared the elderly wizard. "Just to the extent though it is impossible for us to figure out just what has happened, even when Professor Snape identifies what was in the cauldron that your fellow housemates brought it may not be enough information."

"Hermione will be able to tell you," said Harry knowing that the intelligent witch would be able to give all the necessary answers.

"I'm afraid that may not be possible," declared Professor Dumbledore.

"What do you mean?"

"If this magic is what I think it is then you were the least affected," stated Dumbledore. "You only put it on while Miss Granger and Miss Weasley poured their power and magic into making it. Because of the nature of this type of magic, they are now undergoing a test of sorts."

"A test?"

"Inside their minds," said Professor Mcgonagall, gesturing off to the side where Hermione and Ginny were restrained to their own medical beds, their bodies convulsing violently and Harry could only assume magic had been used to silence them. Otherwise he would have little doubt that the entire castle would be awake.

"What's happening?" Harry said in a louder tone, clearly worried about his friends.

"Sadly Harry, powerful magic sometimes requires powerful sacrifice and as a result this isn't something I can answer. For now, we can only wait."

...

 _Hermione ran with tears streaming down her eyes, not knowing where she was or where she was going. She had seen the sight four times now, each time more devastating and brutal than the last. She didn't know what labyrinth she was trapped in but it was undoubtedly playing on her worst nightmares and she didn't know how to fight it or even if she could fight it._

 _Turning a corner, she found herself paralyzed with fear as she saw it yet again, this time with a missing arm in a pool of their own blood. Their glossed over eyes told her everything and as much as she knew that this wasn't real that didn't mean that it wasn't to her, not at that moment._

 _She turned and ran once more, no longer wishing to look upon Harry's mutilated body again._

 _Yet the test was only just beginning._

 _..._


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

...

When morning came, Harry awoke, still in the hospital bed that he had found himself on during the middle of the night. Reaching for his glasses, Harry was able to make out the tattoo like markings on his arm that had burnt its way onto his skin. He knew that this was going to be a fun one to explain to Ron.

Putting on his glasses, Harry turned his attention towards where Hermione and Ginny were. Unlike the previous night they were no longer thrashing about and screaming voiceless words. Professor Snape, upon discovering what had been used in the ritualistic magic, had concocted a brew that had been forced down their throats. The effect had taken some time but the girl's bodies had become calmer. Whether or not it was helping their 'test' was unclear.

Harry had asked at the time once more what was happening but despite having been told of what the ingredients were, the Hogwarts Headmaster had been able to provide nothing more than what he had already said. While Harry had never used any of the ingredients in his own potions, he firmly believed that anything that required blood was not covered in a standard textbook. He also wasn't sure, but it seemed as if Snape had been more disgusted than usual when listing off the ingredients he had found traces of in the cauldron.

Harry wasn't sure what to make of that.

"Ah, you're awake Mr Potter," said the familiar voice of Madam Pomfrey, causing Harry to slowly avert his eyes from the prone bodies of his friends. "I guess that's a start."

"A start?" repeated Harry.

"While most of the trivial stuff was conducted last night, I believe it's time for us to make sure that thing on your arm isn't going to do you any lasting harm," she said as she stood over his bedside and whipped out her wand. A soft white glow emitted from the tip as she scanned over Harry's extended arm. With his glasses on and the morning light illuminating the room, Harry was finally able to get a proper look at the markings on his skin. Instead of the vibrant red that the bracelet had originally been, the colour on his arms were more of a dark maroon. The intertwining lines were vast in number, easily over a hundred, spreading out from where the original trinket had latched onto his wrist, both up and down his skin. While the part that had crawled up his arm had stopped at the elbow, the same could not be said about his hand and fingers, where the small tendrils had reached right up to the fingernail.

Again, he wondered how he would explain this to Ron.

"Much like last night, there seems to be no internal damage to your nerves or veins," declared Madam Pomfrey after about a minute. "There has been no erosion to the muscles and the burning sensation seemed to only occur immediately. I doubt it will be hurting you anytime soon."

"Are you able to get it off?" asked Harry.

"No, not until we know how to," said the nurse. "If I tried anything and it backfired the effect could possibly be the same as amputating your arm, and I will not risk such a thing. Remember I had to regrow your bones last year? Regrowing an arm is not within my limits."

Harry swallowed before he turned his attention back to where Hermione and Ginny were still asleep. "As much as I imagine you would like to stay here and look over them, I assure you that they will be fine under my care," stated Madam Pomfrey. "You meanwhile, are perfectly capable of heading down to the hall and help yourself to some breakfast, plenty of it might I add."

"Alright," said Harry as he pushed himself off of the bed and onto his feet, happy to discover that on the bedside cabinet was a set of his robes. Someone had clearly ensured that if he were to wake up in time that he should be capable of heading to breakfast without having to go via the Gryffindor common room.

How considerate, despite the fact that he would have to return to the common room once he picked up his timetable and figured out what classes he had this morning. "Smooth Ron," he said under his breath, having the sneaking suspicion that it was his friend that had tried to help out.

Pulling across the curtain so he could get changed in privacy, Harry wondered whether or not there was some way he could cover up the marks on his hand. If he were to have a class with the Slytherins then he would never hear the end of it, being even more scarred than the past years. There was also the chance that the rumor that he was the Heir of Slytherin would pick up again and the markings were a result of him having held onto the Sword of Gryffindor. Not very logical, but these rumors did have a tendency to pop out of nowhere.

With a sigh of defeat, he figured there was nothing he could do at the moment that would work, or at least result in him not being in tremendous amounts of pain. Something like this wasn't to be taken lightly, and if he just started casting random charms on it who knew what could happen. Until Hermione woke up and could provide some answers, it would seem like he would just have to wait.

Walking down to the mess hall went simply enough and he ignored the handful of glances that students sent his way. In first year it had been the 'Is that really the Boy Who Lived?' Last year it was 'Is that the heir of Slytherin?' Somehow Harry couldn't shake the feeling that he'd be 'The guy with the freaky arm tattoo.'

Sometimes he wished he could just be a face in the crowd.

Entering the giant dining room, Harry was happy that his presence went relatively unnoticed as he made his way down the Gryffindor table; most people had their noses in their timetables, figuring out their day to day routine and the quickest way to get there from their previous class. Amidst the rampant discussions between friends, Harry found an empty spot next to Ron, who seemed startled to see his friend out of the hospital wing so soon. Having already though somewhat ahead, Harry kept his left arm under the table as he started reaching out for his breakfast.

"Bloody hell Harry, where'd you come from?" asked Ron not having expected this.

"Hospital wing, whatcha expect?" asked Harry in response as he started munching on a piece of toast. "You got my timetable?"

"Of course mate," said Ron as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. "I also got Hermione's for when she wakes up. You know how long she'll be out for?"

Harry chose to ignore that as he looked at his timetable. "Alright so we've got Divination first period, wonder what that class will be like?"

The fact that he had deliberately avoided the question was not lost to Ron, but he felt that if Harry didn't wish to discuss it further than he shouldn't press on the matter. For now at least, he would just go up during his free period to check on both Hermione and Ginny and hopefully get some answers.

...

Having been winded by the climb up the stairwell, Harry collapsed into his chair with Ron landing next to him. Honestly, had it not been for the frequent exercise he had made while on holidays he would have probably given up halfway towards class. At least this way he knew that he was going to somewhat continue his fitness regime by just going to class.

With his arm hidden beneath the desk, Harry pulled out the necessary textbook before looking at the class room around him. Compared to the regular run of the mill rooms which plagued a majority of the halls, this room was vibrant in colour but not of Harry's preferred choice, with the room being dominated by shades of orange and purple. Along the wall were assorted cups and saucers which Hermione had already informed them prior to the term even starting, would be the bread and butter of their opening lessons.

The jingling of trinkets alerted the students that someone was coming. Entering from out of their office stepped their teacher, a frail old lady with oversized glasses. One instantly noticeable thing was that her footsteps were timid, as if she was frightened to tread too far forward at a time.

"Children, before we begin I must ask your forgiveness for I am unwell," their teacher said in a petite voice that barely carried to the corners of the room.

"Is everything alright?" asked Lavender Brown.

"Last night I was plagued with visions," explained their teacher. "The fates were changed in such a way that I cannot comprehend. All I can do is pray that those whom will meet with dark fates and hope they find their way."

As the Divination teacher returned to the class proper, Harry couldn't help but feel shivers run down his spine.

...

After a Transfiguration class where the last thing on anybody's mind was the topic they were meant to be learning, the Gryffindor students were out in the open air on their way to their Care of Magical Creature class. While their thoughts may have been on the prophecies made by Professor Trelawney during Professor McGonagall's class, nobody could afford to lose concentration at the moment as they wrestled for control of their books. Harry couldn't help but be entertained by how people had done their best to secure the book that had tried to bite into them. Duct tape, belts, rope, anything had seemingly been fair game.

Sadly, in the handling of his own book, the one secret he had been trying to keep was spotted by none other than a Slytherin student, the last person Harry wanted to see it. "Gone and got yourself a tattoo Potter?" asked Malfoy in a boisterous tone to ensure all of the students in the vicinity could hear it. "Have you hit your rebellious years?"

While a small group of Draco's closest laughed at the boy's joke, the rest of the students had paused mid step to look at the item in question. Immediately hushed whispers started bouncing from student to student and Harry could already visualize the rumors that would come of this. The main problem though was that he didn't have a way to counter Draco's claims. If he said it was none of his business then he would take the bait and fan those rumors. Alternatively, if he said that it was a result of a magical trinket then questions would arise asking if what he had done was legal or not, and at that moment in time he couldn't answer that question either.

Sadly all he could do was ignore it and continue on his way to class. As the masses resumed their movement, Ron was quick to Harry's side desperately wanting to know what was going on. "Oi mate, is that why you were acting a bit off earlier?" asked the ginger-haired teenager. Harry's silence was as good a confirmation as any. "What is it?"

"Trust me Ron, if I knew I'd tell you," replied Harry, grateful that Ron didn't push the topic for more information. Other than the gossip in the background there were no more interruptions before Hagrid stepped forward to greet them. He did pause momentarily to glare at the tribal markings on Harry's arm, who felt no need to hide it anymore since the whole school would know about it by dinner. Thankfully the half-giant opted not to pry into it at the moment before he introduced himself and taught everyone how to open their books.

Then of course it was on to the practical side of things and Hagrid, never being one to back down from a challenge, hadn't opted for something cute and cuddly for them to work with. "This here is Buckbeak," said Hagrid, introducing the magnificent winged beast. As he went on to teach them about Buckbeak along with hippogriff in general, Harry couldn't help but feel as if the silver feathered animal was staring directly at him.

The shuffling of feet didn't alarm Harry until he noticed that the rest of the class had backed at least a metre away, and it wasn't until Hagrid started congratulating him that he understood what had happened. "Come on Harry, step forward and give a light bow, if he bows back you can touch him," instructed Hagrid.

Swallowing a lump that had formed in his throat, Harry stepped closer to where Buckbeak stood. The hippogriff was a fair foot taller than he was and it's beak was almost the size of his head, making Harry quite confident that the creature was not of the herbivorous kind. The talons perfect for ripping into meat helped reiterate that fact.

Stopping a handful of metres away from the proud animal, Harry lowered his head and bowed, ensuring that he never broke eye contact as he did so. As he lifted himself back up Buckbeak glared at him with hateful eyes. Harry had done as he had been instructed, but had to admit that he was nervous that his actions wouldn't warrant the respect that Hagrid had said the hippogriff would give him.

Hagrid could not have asked for a worse person to step forward.

In pure aggression that the Gameskeeper could not have foreseen, Buckbeak lunged forward with more speed than any could have predicted, right at the boy whose only defence was to raise his arms up in front of his face. His guard did little as razor sharp talons tore into flesh, causing Harry to cry out in pain as he collapsed to the floor, blood splashing upon his robes and the ground around him.

Thankfully, the attack ceased as Hagrid stepped in front of Buckbeak, his giant frame powerful enough to stop the magical beast in it's tracks. Ron was quick enough to be by Harry's side as the famous teenager clasped at his left arm, nobody else had moved from their position; even Malfoy was uncharacteristically silent. Other than the ravenous screeches of the hippogriff the only sound was someone in the background fainting.

The world around him was a blur; Ron was screaming for Hagrid to help Harry. His peers were whispering into their fists, as if that would contain the horror before their eyes to the square meter that Harry's body occupied.

Yet, Harry was grateful. Thankful that he was the only witness to the red tendrils of flesh writhe. Glad that no one else felt the pain when they began to sew his arm back together. Happy that only he could see the pool of blood around him, now crawling back into the littlest lacerations of his skin.

He couldn't understand why he lay there smiling.

So he laughed.

...


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

 **...**

Harry was well aware that he was the centre of attention during the evening's gathering. Very little of the gorgeous looking meal was consumed as the students of Hogwarts chose to spend their time staring at the Boy Who Lived and whispering amongst themselves. What they were actually talking about, Harry couldn't tell, but it was clear that the day's events had spread exactly as he had predicted.

After having been attacked by Buckbeak and having to trudge up to the Hospital Wing even though he wasn't technically injured at the time, the blood stains on his robes painted a different story. On the walk though he had gone by Malfoy and smiled at him much as a demon would smile before tearing apart its helpless prey.

Draco's reaction was all he needed to see.

The puddle of urine at his feet was the icing on the cake.

For the rest of his march however, reality crashed down on him and as opposed to making his way to the Hospital Wing like he had been instructed to he detoured back to the Gryffindor tower where he had spent the rest of the afternoon. Sure, he would likely be punished for not having gone to his classes but for all they knew at the moment he was currently being checked up by Madam Pomfrey. All he would have missed out on was Defence Against the Dark Arts but he was sure that Ron would fill him in on the details.

So he had sought isolation. There were many things he had to think about and with the resident nurse checking in on him every couple of minutes he wouldn't have the time to think. Firstly he had to consider his attitude; someone having nearly had their arm torn off and laughing about it not even a minute later was beyond psychotic, so why had he done it? Secondly his arm had quite literally taken the torn pieces of flesh and molded them back together in something reminiscent of a horror film. Again, he had to ask why? The answer was directly in front of him but didn't make any sense without having gone through the process. It was essentially the same as answering a complicated problem without showing how you stumbled upon the correct solution.

So, with Hermione still out of the picture, Harry had started to break down the problem and work out how the result came about. Yet there wasn't much he could understand. His desperation had gotten to the point where he had cut his arm once more to watch the skin stitch itself back together, yet he was thankful his sanity remained intact. He was somehow not surprised though that when he cut his other arm the same result wasn't achieved, and he had had to stop the bleeding the old fashioned way. Of course this gave him one answer which he hadn't asked the question to.

He wasn't immortal.

Sadly, even with all the extra time he had had to himself, his solitude had come to a close as the rest of the third year Gryffindor boys started piling in and asking questions. Arguably, Harry's answers were as believable as they could come with most of the answers centring around that he didn't know why Buckbeak had mauled him. While he didn't know the answer he had one theory but wasn't going to ask his roommates their opinion on the matter. Conversation then shifted to how the class he had missed went and Harry was slightly upset that he hadn't had the chance to tackle the Boggart.

Harry's musings were shattered when Ron elbowed his ribs lightly. "Oi, I'm going to go up to the Hospital Wing to see Ginny and Hermione, I'll catch up with you later," he stated.

"Sure thing, I'd come with but I've already had enough of that room," said Harry trying to make the conversation a bit lighter. Sadly it had little effect.

Ron left without saying a word and Harry suddenly found himself very alone in a place where even his comrades were frightened to get too close. Arguably he couldn't blame them, only those who had seen the blood on his robes had known that he had been badly injured, but when he had walked away it had been as normal as anything, not a sense of urgency in his steps. They were cautious and rightfully so.

Feeling tired of being the centre of attention, Harry stood up from the table and walked towards the exit. He could feel the many sets of eyes in the back of his head and had an inkling that he would be summoned to the Headmaster's office tomorrow to explain what had happened. No doubt word had already gone from one professor to the other and there would be an explanation given as to why he had not gone to the nurse's ward. McGonagall would see to that.

Turning around the corner, Harry was somewhat irked that a couple of the ghosts that floated through the halls paused whatever it had been that they were doing before whispering amongst themselves. Just what level did it have to get to to even have the dead spread rumours?

Harry found himself moving forward at a greater pace before slowing down with only a couple of stairwells left to go. There was no reason to get so worked up about this, especially after the last year's rumor in where he was declared the 'Heir of Slytherin.' Heck, the worst he could think of was that he took on a Hippogriff without receiving a scratch.

Arguably, not as bad as being one of the founder's embodiment of death.

Stating the password to the fat lady, the portrait swung open and Harry plonked himself down on one of the leather bound armchairs. Harry stared at the fire ablaze within the common room, happy for the momentary isolation, knowing full well that he would soon be receiving the company of the rest of the Gryffindor students once they finished in the Great Hall. Harry was well aware that he would be the centre of discussion throughout the coming days and he couldn't help but ponder whether or not anybody would actually come to him directly and question him.

His musings were shattered as the door to the common room opened and he looked over his shoulder to see the head of Gryffindor standing there. "I thought I might find you here, Potter," said McGonagall as she looked towards him, her eyes sharp and calculating.

"Is something the matter?" asked Harry, wondering why the professor wasn't dining with her colleagues. It also made him realize that he had completely lost track of time; had only a couple of seconds passed since he had sat down or a handful of minutes?

"I am pleased to inform you that your friends have awoken and are currently awaiting you in the Headmaster's office."

It was amazing how quickly emotions could change in the space of a sentence, Harry's mood having been able to swap three times in a matter of seconds ranging from ecstatic to passive. While he was excited for the fact that Hermione and Ginny were now awake, he was a bit troubled by the fact that they were already in Dumbledore's office. Still though, he had to focus on the positives as he got off of the leather chair and looked the teacher in the eye.

"Lead the way."

...

Ginny stood nervously under the gaze of the Headmaster, Hermione having just finished explaining what they had done as Ginny had been unable to gather the confidence to explain. It wasn't that she was afraid of the elderly man, his kindness was just as well known as his ruthlessness, but she had to ponder just what they had done. As soon as Hermione had made mention of what they had been trying to accomplish his eyes had focused as he tried to put all the pieces of the puzzle together. To try and help explain both of the young girl's had shown the markings on their arm, similar yet not identical in their pattern. Sadly anything they had been trying to help answer seemed to have only created more questions.

The only time she had spoken up was when Hermione had stated that she had had nightmarish visions which she couldn't tell were real or not at the time. Ginny had piped up in that she had seen similar horrendous images of Harry mutilated before her very eyes as she had tried to escape a labyrinth identical to the one Hermione had described. Sadly whether these were visions, hallucinations or just a terrible nightmare Dumbledore had no answer to.

The stillness in the room was broken as the doorway turned, revealing both the deputy headmistress along with the central target of the painful dreams. Before even a word was spoken from either of them, both Hermione and Ginny had lost whatever composure they had had as they both ran towards Harry and engulfed him in a hug.

Harry, for the better part, remained somewhat calm as he silently patted the girls on the back, wondering what it was that they had to suffer which he had not. This of course raised a very important question for the teenage boy. Why hadn't he remained unconscious? It wasn't as if the bracelet he had originally put on was any different to those that Ginny and Hermione had, so why was the effect different?

"As touching as this is, time may or may not be on our side," said Dumbledore still from behind his desk, his fingers laced among one another. Harry turned his attention towards the head of the school and wondered just how much the professor now knew that he yet didn't. "From what Miss Granger and Miss Weasley have told me, I have several theories in regards to what the spell cast was. While it may be called the Thread of Fate that doesn't necessarily spell it out for us."

"How so?" asked Harry, he and his peers now standing directly before the Headmaster.

"The ingredients used were each of a natural affinity, in fact I'd be surprised if you could have used any ingredients provided that each one was either directly derived or a part of Earth, Fire, Wind and Water," explained Dumbledore. "This however could all be counteracted by the fact that blood was used and like most magic where blood is used it is dark in nature."

"I'm sorry," said Ginny unable to look the Headmaster in the eye.

"It is quite alright, but let this be a lesson that sometimes even if your intention is pure the result may be more catastrophic than you think," declared Dumbledore. "The level of danger in which you are in may be anywhere between non-existent to immediate peril, I sadly cannot say. Miss Weasley, if you cannot remember which country this spell originated from c

could you at least recall which general area, even the slightest hint may shine light on the topic."

Seconds passed as Ginny did her best to recall her brother's book. "It was set in Europe," she declared after what seemed like an eternity.

"Are you certain?" asked Dumbledore, receiving a nod in response. "It gives us something to work with. What immediately springs to mind is the Celtic Knot, which could potentially be what the markings may be related to."

"Celtic Knot?" asked Hermione.

"Charms with no beginning or end," explained Dumbledore. "The interwoven markings on your arms are similar in nature to the few examples that history have left for us, but Celtic magic is over a thousand years old and I doubt anybody living would even have a clue as to what the magic would accomplish. Still, this is merely speculation at the time but there are some potential leads here as the Celts were well attuned with nature, hence the possible need for elemental ingredients. Also, they weren't of the most intelligent of magicians and sadly they were quite fond of blood rituals to appease their Gods."

"So what does that mean?" asked Harry.

"Once more I have no answer," stated Dumbledore. "I sadly cannot tell if this is the right path for us to investigate or not, but we have at least started. I thank you for your time and if you discover anything in regards to the markings alert me immediately."

"Of course," said Hermione.

"I would recommend that you allow any developments to come at their own time, do not provoke the magic if you can," warned Dumbledore. "Now off with you and rest up, a day in the hospital wing will not negate classes."

With professor McGonagall leading the way, Harry, Hermione and Ginny were lead out of the Headmaster's office and towards the Gryffindor common room. None of the students said anything at that moment and Harry was uncertain as to why the girls were so quiet. At the same time however he had deliberately not shown Dumbledore what he knew the magic sealed to his arm was capable of at that moment.

Since he was hiding secrets he would not pry into theirs.

At least not yet.

...

Dumbledore, if nothing else, was an observant man; there was very little that happened upon the grounds that he did not hear about in someway shape or form. It was clear that Harry had wanted to hide the fact that he had been attacked during Hagrid's class, something which even the fresh teacher admitted was his fault for not being careful enough, and the Headmaster was fairly certain that Harry hadn't wanted to get the gentle half-giant in trouble. That was all well and good but unfortunately that was not where the story ended, even he didn't know how it had concluded.

Harry had left the class in a huff in order to seemingly go to the Hospital Wing, as many would assume he would in that situation. Yet when Dumbledore had gone up to check on both Hermione and Ginny during the early afternoon he questioned the resident nurse if any other students had made themselves present. Unfortunately, other than a couple of burns sustained in potions by some second year students Madam Pomfrey had not had any major problems throughout the day. This of course then had begged the question, where had Harry been?

Stepping up from his desk, Dumbledore felt a dozen years older from the conundrum which Harry and his companions had shown him. The markings were unfamiliar to say the least and the potion itself didn't seem to imply anything devastating in nature to his knowledge. That simply meant however that his intellect was limitless and this brand of magic was not something he was familiar with. Considering how old it was there wasn't many people he could turn to in order to get their opinion on the matter.

For now though he would watch and have the portraits whisper necessary information to him. He would act in due time when he had more insight into what needed to be done. If there was one thing he knew for certain it was that you did not tamper with ancient magic and he could only hope that the students would be careful with what they had dabbled with.

...

Upon returning to the Gryffindor common room, the trio of students had found themselves bombarded by their peers. Ron of course had basically been waiting just on the inside of the entrance and had practically leapt onto his sister, hugging her like there was no tomorrow. It was a tender moment and nobody wanted to break it for the time being.

Of course once the connection between the two of them had broken the questions had begun. Arguably they had done their best to answer what they could but since they were mostly in the dark as to the true nature of the magic the answers were only whatever information they could give. They did their best to hide the fact that they had used blood during the spell as that would likely send the crowd into a panic. It was also Harry and Hermione who answered most of the questions as Ginny had seemed to shy away somewhat in front of the crowd that had gathered.

Not that they could blame her.

"What do they do?"

Harry wasn't sure who asked it but he could feel Hermione and Ginny freeze amongst him. They knew something that he didn't and it terrified them. Harry himself couldn't answer the question, if he started hacking into his arm in front of them he would be called many worse things than 'crazy.'

Thankfully, or un-thankfully depending on what position you were in, the question wasn't answered as another person stepped into the fray. "What is going on here!" demanded Percy, the eldest Weasley wondering why so many of the students were huddled around the entrance. "Ginny, where have you been?"

"She's been in the hospital wing brother," said one of the two red haired twins.

"You would have known if you had merely asked," stated the other one.

"What was the matter?" asked Percy not paying much attention to what his brothers had said. Ginny slowly put her arm forward to show the stained skin which all of the commotion was about. "What is that, gid rid of it this instant!"

"I can't" said Ginny in little more than whisper.

"What was that?"

"I SAID I CAN'T!" yelled Ginny before barging her way through the crowd, tears swelling within her eyes as she made her way towards her room. Realizing that boundaries had clearly been trodden over, many of the students believed that enough questions had been asked as they slowly scattered back to their homework and secluded areas.

:"Way to go," said both Weasley twins in unison, their elder brother merely scoffing at the comment before trudging back off to where he had come from.

"Git," said Ron under his breath at his brother's back.

It went unnoticed by all, that Harry's fist had clenched to the point where his fingernails had dug painfully into his palm. It also went unnoticed that for a second the black markings on his arm had flashed blood red in colour.

Unnoticed by all but one.

...

 **Hope you enjoyed, let me know what you think.**

 **Peace**


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

 **...**

Hermione was always a studious child and as a result she did find herself isolated from her peers on more than one occasion. But after having been rescued from a troll, those insecure boundaries had been broken, and she found herself amongst people her own age who were willing to include her in their conversations much more. She felt like she was part of a group, something she had never had before.

How quickly such situations could be shattered.

Upon having gone to bed she had tried to discuss what she had missed during class with the other members of the Gryffindor third year girls, but other than the barest of information they had been relatively quiet. While Hermione arguably wasn't the best of friends with them, having spent most of her time with the boys, they had seemed somewhat colder than usual tonight. Hermione couldn't blame them; they had been quite social in the common room amongst the rest of the students but now that they were amongst themselves everything had gone somewhat quiet.

So after having copied as many notes as she could, Hermione had forced herself into bed with the rest of the girls yet sleep had not come to her. Minutes trickled into hours and eventually the brown-haired witch was forced from her bed due to recklessness. Tiptoeing out of the sleeping quarters, she knew only the truly devoted would be up at this hour, and since only a single day's worth of assignments had been set she sincerely doubted there would be anybody in the common room.

When she tred into the area in nothing but a nightgown she knew she was correct in that there was nobody studying. That didn't however, mean the room was deserted.

She wasn't surprised to see Harry sitting in the armchair, his gaze directed at the flames that flickered in the fireplace. He wore only a pair of pajama bottoms which considering it was still in summer was not surprising. Hermione however had never seen Harry without a shirt or robe on and she was somewhat surprised with what she saw. Harry wasn't a scrawny lad that many may have assumed due to his malnourishment at home. Where one would expect to see ribs threatening to poke out of his body there instead was a very respectable amount of muscle.

Of course the one thing that stood out most of all was the tattooed arm (until Hermione could figure out how to remove the branding she would treat the magic as something that could simply be taken off), the jet black markings a stark comparison to his pale white skin. His gaze turned towards her as she took a couple more steps and she could see that he too had been unable to fall asleep.

"Hey," Hermione said meekly.

"Hey," he replied in kind as he adjusted himself to be more in a more upright position. From his posture Hermione could tell that something was weighing heavily on his mind, and it didn't take someone with her intellect to figure out what he had been thinking of.

"May I," she said as she gestured to the seat next to him.

"By all means."

Taking the a spot on the couch close to where Harry was, Hermione wasn't sure how to approach the subject that both of them knew they needed to say. It wasn't really like she could casually say 'sorry for possibly placing an irreversible curse on your arm'. Silence reigned supreme between them before Harry spoke up.

"I know this isn't quite what you two had planned," said Harry slowly, foregoing the awkwardness which would have been an introduction by going straight to the point. "I want to say thanks, even if we don't know what it is, the fact that you wanted to help means everything to me. So if..."

Whatever Harry had to say was cut off as Hermione had gotten out of her chair and closed the distance between them quickly before engulfing him in a hug. Harry, momentarily out of place with what was going on, took a couple of seconds before he returned the hug in kind. In the comfort of one another's grasp they were somehow both able to accomplish what the rest of the faculty had already achieved and slept the night away, the two of them sharing the single chair in the most adorable of fashions. It was many years later when they were awoken by Oliver Wood, the quidditch captain quickly seeing his star seeker nuzzling up to Hermione.

Unlike most of the Gryffindor students who would have likely poked fun at the two of them, Oliver had merely stated that he would forget the whole thing if Harry would join him for some early morning flying practise.

Needless to say, Harry took the offer.

...

"Miss Weasley, a moment if you will," said Professor McGonagall as the students of her second year Transfiguration class were streaming out, the weekend beckoning them now that their studies were over for the day. The fellow second year Gryffindors, who had been highly supportive of Ginny the previous evening, stated that they would wait for the Weasley girl outside the classroom. Ginny beamed brightly before thanking them and heading to where the teacher stood at the front of the classroom.

"It is good to see you making amends with your peers," said McGonagall. "I trust that you will try to avoid behaving like you older siblings."

Ginny didn't need to be a genius to figure out who she meant. "Don't worry, I don't plan on doing something Fred or George would do."

"I was actually referring to your youngest brother," declared McGonagall. "You may not be aware, but young Ronald is at times more prone to trouble than the twins."

Seemingly, one did have to be a genius to understand who the witch had been referring to. "Ron, what has he done?" asked Ginny.

"It is not so much what he attempts to do, but rather the situations he ends up in," said McGonagall, her voice a sigh. "I imagine that most of the instances in first year were kept secret for a reason, even to your parents. I would advise you to keep a similar frame of mind."

Ginny looked down at her arm, instantly recognizing what it was that the deputy Headmaster was speaking of. "Until we can understand and ensure that you are in no danger, I recommend that news of this remains in the school," continued McGonagall. "I was able to intercept Percy Weasley on his way to the owlery this morning, and had he managed to send off his letter I would assume you would be receiving a Howler in the coming days. I am well acquainted with your mother and I can only imagine what the entire school would hear at your expense."

Ginny's demeanour dropped sharply and she turned her attention to the floor. "Tell me Miss Weasley, is there anymore you recall about the spell you used? Anything that may give us further insight as to how to solve this dilemma?"

"I've tried," admitted Ginny. "Yet the more I try to recall anything the book said the less I seem to remember, as if the book itself doesn't want me to know what it is I did."

Minerva mused over that fact as she pondered the possibility that the book itself was enchanted to prevent those who read it from telling their acquaintances about it. If this book belonged to Bill like Ginny had stated earlier then this was somehow a distinct possibility. During the eldest Weasley's final years she could tell that he could see the line between what many deemed good and bad magic and dabbled on both sides. She had read his final History of Magic report. It had gone very deep into how magic as a whole was not responsible for any crime in history, but rather it was those that cast the magic who were at fault. Some of the spells he had used as an example she had never heard of, and seemed at first glance that they were constructed purely for mayhem and chaos. Yet he had gone about deconstructing the magic and showing how it could be used in ways that others would never have imagined.

It was no surprise then that he found himself a job with the Goblins.

If Ginny had indeed used a book of his then she may have stumbled upon a spell which she had thought was for pure intentions, but there was malevolent hatred tied underneath. Likewise the opposite was also possible and she could have interpreted it wrong. If she couldn't recollect the book though, there was no way to tell. "I'm sure it will come to you in time," said the teacher. "That will be all for now, enjoy your weekend, but be sure to hand in your assignment on time."

"Yes," said Ginny, springing back to life at the thought of the upcoming weekend. As she turned and headed towards the exit, McGonagall couldn't help but allow a scowl to crawl across her face.

...

Having only a handful of classes that day before the weekend, Hermione had plenty of time to go through most of her lessons, along with chasing up professors to get the necessary information for assignments that she had missed out on the previous day. Since she had arranged to use the Time-Turner at the beginning of the school year in order to go to as many classes as possible, she did have to zigzag across the castle in order to go to each of her teachers, several of which she had to introduce herself to. The one trek she had no wish to make was the one to the Divination tower, Ron having been quite adamant that it wasn't worth the trip.

Halfway up the stairwell Hermione had to wonder if he was right.

Finally ascending the stairs, Hermione was pleased that the professor was not in the middle of class (unlike her Arithmancy class where she had to wait half an hour for the lesson to finish). "Come in my dear, I've been expecting you," said a shaky voice beckoning Hermione inside. Hermione's pace slowed down dramatically as she pushed open the door, allowing her to see just what the classroom was like.

Different was an understatement in both the classroom and the teacher, the latter of which was helping herself to a cup of tea. "I hope I'm not intruding," said Hermione as she stepped inside.

"Not at all dear," said Professor Trelawney as she beckoned Hermione to take a seat opposite her. "Come, come."

Hermione took a seat and prepared the spiel that she had said to the rest of her teachers, but she was stopped before she could even get going.

"May I see your palm dear?"

"Excuse me?"

"Your palm, I wish to read it," reitified the teacher. Hermione slowly lifted her arm up for her to read but, Professor Trelawney shook her head from side to side. "Your other palm dear."

Hermione froze, her heart missing a beat as she wondered what she should do. The elderly woman meanwhile seemed to accept that Hermione would struggle with this and did not pressure her to hurry up. The brown-haired teenager lifted her left arm up at a snail's pace; while she hadn't been so worried about hiding it after having heard from Harry that the entire school was aware of his, it was more so that nobody had wanted to inspect it.

When it was within the professor's line of sight, her brow furrowed as she immediately set about studying it. When it was finally within her grasp she ran her fingers over every crease, every tattooed line and every inch of skin. The feelings made Hermione shiver.

"Can you see something?" asked Hermione as the Divination teacher studied her palm intently.

"My dear, this is a terrible thing for me to ask, but I feel that there is nothing else I can say until I hear the answer," said Professor Trelawney raising her eyes to meet Hermione's. Despite the thickness of the glasses, Hermione could tell that the elder woman was troubled by something and she shuddered wondering just what she was going to be asked.

"How many deaths have you seen?"

Unlike the fear one would expect to see when asked a question of that magnitude, Hermione's features hardened which made the professor somewhat worry. "Was it in the dozens?"

Silence.

"Hundreds?"

Silence.

"Oh my..."

"I saw thousands," said Hermione as if the happiness in her life had been drained. "Over and over, each time different than the last."

"I would suggest my dear, that you pull away from my class while you can," said the professor somewhat bringing Hermione back into the land of the living. Only a day into the term and she was already being told to remove herself from a class. "The inner eye is a delicate thing, some have it and some do not. The inner eye I fear you have opened is not of the pleasant variety, though very few ever are. Yours however was opened unnaturally, and what you have seen is not so much what will happen, but rather what may occur."

"May?"

"Fate is not as clear cut as many would like it," stated Professor Trelawney. "While certain things are able to be seen clearly, these are often mundane, and knowing such a thing will occur will cause no disturbance in the balance of the universe. Mentioning them or not will cause no effect on the outcome. If I told you to mind your step when you leave in order to not trip over yourself, would you trip over anyway. Then the question comes to mind whether or not the same thing would have happened if I had told you or not."

Hermione bit on the inside of her lip kind of understanding what it was that the professor was saying. "I wish you well in your endeavours and we shall see if we are destined to meet again," said the teacher bringing the conversation to an end.

Standing up, Hermione thanked the teacher for her time as she did her best to summarise everything she had just said. Whether or not she would rejoin the class she wasn't sure of, she would use the upcoming weekend to contemplate whether or not she would want to try and further her 'inner eye', and potentially envision more death and despair. Arguably it wasn't a pretty scenario, especially when certain things could be avoided.

It was through her musings however, that when she went to leave the classroom she stumbled, her feet practically fumbling around seemingly of their own accord for no more than a second. While she managed to right herself promptly ,she couldn't help but look over her shoulder at where the teacher remained seated, drinking from her teacup as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.

Hermione meanwhile decided that she would decide on whether or not to remain in Divination tonight and not leave it a moment sooner.

...

 **Hope you enjoyed**

 **Huge shout out to kalebxdd for Beta'ing this for me, check out his stuff, you won't regret it.**

 **Til next time.**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

 **...**

While Hagrid didn't state anything about his previous class it was clear that he was still reeling from the effects. His speech was much less enthusiastic and Harry fully believed that it wasn't because they were discussing something much less intimidating than the hippogriff that had nearly tore his arm off. Whether he'd been instructed to tone down the creatures he showed or chose to do so himself wasn't clear, but Hagrid seemed as if his mind wasn't fully in it.

The reasons became apparent when after the class had ended Hagrid asked, Ron and Hermione opting to stay alongside as they didn't have another class for the rest of the day. "Harry, I want to apologize for Buckbeak's behaviour last week," said Hagrid, seemingly having wanted to get this off his chest for quite some time. "I honestly don't know what got into 'im. 'E's as good a creature as any but you know what happens when they get spooked, they'll either flee or fight and let me tell you something, Buckbeak is not one to flee."

"I guessed as much," said Harry trying to keep the conversation lighthearted.

"What I can't put my head around is why he went after you," said Hagrid as he put his hands on his hips.

"Maybe it was something he ate?" said Ron with a shrug of the shoulders.

"Doubt it, I've been feeding 'im only the finest rabbits I could catch, but ya never know. So Harry, no hard feelings?"

"None at all, professor," said Harry with a cheeky smile.

"Not sure if I'll ever get used to that," said Hagrid with a chuckle. "Now run along you three."

With that being as good a farewell as any, the three students politely waved before collecting their belongings and heading back towards the castle. "Hey Harry, do you really know why you were attacked?" asked Ron as they made it halfway up the hill leading to the school building.

"No idea," said Harry with a shrug of the shoulders. "Maybe Malfoy sent a stinging hex at it while nobody was looking."

"If that git did, I swear," said Ron before mumbling all the terrible things he would do. Hermione meanwhile didn't buy the excuse for a second, rather looking back at what Hagrid had said about Flight or Fight. It was common knowledge that most animals, magical or not, possessed this sixth sense and would act accordingly given the circumstance. If Buckbeak had indeed felt threatened then the obvious explanation was that it was afraid of the tattoo on Harry's arm and may have been able to sense something from it. What though they wouldn't likely find out for some time.

"Either way Harry, it's lucky you were able to get up to the Hospital Wing in time, you were bleeding all over the place!" exclaimed Ron.

"I didn't hear about this!" declared Hermione.

"Yea, Buckbeak cut Harry so bad that blood splashed all over the place," said Ron. "Then as he's making his way up to the tower, he has the gall to look at Malfoy and scare him stupid, the look on his face was priceless!"

A scowl crossed Hermione's lips as she turned her gaze at Harry with concentrating eyes. If it was bleeding as badly as Ron seemed to imagine then there was little doubt that Harry would have likely bled out before he had even gotten to where they were now, and they weren't even close to school. She decided to keep quiet about it for the moment and would figure it out by herself.

Or at least she hoped to do so.

...

History of Magic, arguably the most boring subject ever created by the student board who simply wished to watch the students suffer. Or at least it seemed that way as Ginny struggled to keep her eyes open, knowing full well if she closed them for little more than a second then she wouldn't be able to get them to open until the end of the lesson.

"Are you alright?" asked a voice to her right, causing Ginny to turn and face her newfound friend.

"I'm fine Luna, just bored," said Ginny in a hushed whisper. She doubted that the undead professor would even pay attention to them for talking, who knew how many hundreds of years he had been teaching the subject.

"Well it would seem that you and a couple of your housemates have started a trend," said Luna indicating a couple of rows downwards. Confused by what the Ravenclaw student was talking about, Ginny looked down at where Colin Creevy and a couple other students were. Unlike most of the students in the room they actually had their quills in their hands but instead of taking notes they were scribbling on their arm with ink. The designs were poorly constructed but it was clear what they were doing.

"Really?" said Ginny in pure disbelief.

"You're a trendsetter," stated Luna before pulling up her sleeve to show off intricate designs scribbled on her own arm. Unlike the intertwining design that decorated Ginny's arm, Luna had drawn squiggly lines that never contacted one another with random black dots littered around the vacant space. It was odd to say the least, yet very distinctly 'Luna.'

"But why?" asked Ginny as Luna covered her arm back up.

"Harry has a huge amount of influence in this school, even if he is not aware of it," said Luna. "The younger students were told contrasting, yet always amazing stories at bedtime of how Voldemort was defeated."

Never actually having heard someone willing same the name, and in such a calm manner nonetheless, Ginny couldn't help but feel pins and needles rocket across every inch of his skin. "You said his name!"

"Why not, it's only a name, and not a very good one," said Luna. "Back to the topic at hand though, young children learned that it was Harry Potter who stopped him, it was Harry Potter that saved us, you should try to be like Harry Potter when you're older, so on so forth. So when Harry Potter comes to school with something that nobody else has, suddenly everybody wants to mimic it, but they've only ever caught glimpses of what is so secretive. It's a game to us, all because Harry has a tattoo on his arm."

"I...I never thought of it like that," said Ginny as she rolled up her sleeve to look at her own markings.

"I do have to ask, for future reference, how did you get such a magnificent turquoise colour?" asked Luna. The question was one that Ginny did not want to answer for very specific reasons yet she was more concerned as why it was that colour because last she checked, her arm was not tainted with light blue markings.

...

Ron would admit that he wasn't the brightest spark, that title belonged to Hermione, but that didn't mean that he wasn't observant in his own right. Ginny, Harry and Hermione had all been acting differently ever since they got to Hogwarts and he knew why, but at the same time hadn't the foggiest idea.

It was the second weekend of the semester and while the weather wasn't overly chilly, all three of them wore long sleeved clothing to keep their arms hidden from view. The younger students, and even some of the older, often compared designs on their arm and only seemed to regret their judgement whenever they were instructed to remove the ink from their arm, a task which took an incredibly long time. Well at least it had until his brothers, Fred and George, had developed easily washable colour changing paint, something which was bought almost as quickly as it was created.

At least it was good to see somebody profiting from the situation.

Snapping his thoughts back to the predicament at hand, it was clear that something was different about the markings that his friends had etched upon their arm. If they didn't want the attention such a thing brought then they would have gotten rid of it before anybody had seen it. As things were though, it seemed as if they either didn't want to or simply couldn't remove the black stains on their arms.

It worried him.

He needed to talk to Harry about the situation, not really wanting to approach his sister on such a delicate topic after the tirade she had had with Percy at the beginning of the term. Hermione meanwhile wasn't an option either as she would likely go into a lot more detail than he was after and would likely lose track of the conversation. Harry was definitely the one he needed to talk to, he just needed him to return from Quidditch practice with the rest of the Gryffindor squad.

If his timing was correct they should be back shortly.

Any minute now.

Probably waiting for the stairs to move to the right corridor.

Or they'd all forgotten the password and were standing outside the Fat Lady.

...Sirius Black had got them?

As if answering his suddenly troubling thoughts, the entrance to the common room swung open, revealing the Quidditch team. Ron shot to his feet in gratitude, before seeing that they were all huddled around Harry, who was gripping at his left forearm as the once black markings pulsated vibrantly, the tattoo shifting between a bright red and pitch black at an alarming rate.

"What's going on?" asked Ron as Harry made his way to the now vacant armchair, the entirety of the common room focusing on what was happening.

"I don't know, it feels like it's on fire" replied Harry through gritted teeth, clearly doing his best to suppress the pain.

"It just happened on our way back," said Oliver Wood trying to explain the situation. "Nearly collapsed, if it was during practice he would've fallen off his broom."

Nobody doubted what the Quidditch captain said as Ginny barged through the crowd with a pail of water in her hands she had gotten from the bathroom. As soon as she had heard Harry say the word 'fire' she had sprung into action. Harry, spotting the approaching water, drove his arm into the bucket and a relieved look spread across his face. "Thanks," he said between deep breaths, the teenage boy feeling as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

Hermione, who had been standing off to the side when this had all began, was biting at the inside of her lip before she headed towards the exit. She needed answers and she needed them now.

...

When confronted by any situation, Hermione did as she always did and traversed to the library. Thankfully since it was a weekend, she would not likely be interrupted by any other students since it was a relatively warm day those realizing that they were already behind after no more than a week of study would be truly desperate to venture through the tombs of information Hogwarts possessed.

The information she was looking up wasn't as familiar to her as most other topics, in fact she had never felt the need to look it up other than the previous year when she had been trying to break down why everybody was getting paralyzed. The medicinal section of the library was nowhere near as broad as the other sections, but considering being a doctor or a nurse in the magical world took extensive after school study as well as the highest of knowledge of potions, there wasn't really much need for it in a school for children and teenagers.

So it only made sense that when Hermione grabbed whatever medicinal books she could find she also looked towards history books that centred around grandesque wars and brutal deaths. Undoubtedly a dreadful subject to research, but sadly it was through these pieces of text that she would most likely find the answers she was searching for.

Unfortunately considering the circumstance that they were dealing with, magic that they weren't even privy to information of in the first place, finding details on how to rectify the problem was quite vexing. After a couple of hours digging up false leads and dead ends, Hermione closed the book she was working with and tried to figure out a different tactic to the problem. She had already tried to break down the Celtic lead earlier in the week; beliefs, rituals, anything she could think of that could give them some manner of insight to the situation, to no avail. The only thing she had found of interest was that the Muggles and wizards of the Celtic community lived with one another under the guise of the communal shaman. There was no discrepancy between those capable of magic and those who could not, something Hermione had found herself greatly admiring.

Grasping at straws, Hermione had turned to one of Hagrid's essential reading materials, ensuring that she stroked the spine of the book in order to not get bitten. Tracking down what she was after she found herself looking at Salamanders, a component of which had been a central ingredient in the Thread of Fate spell they had brewed. While most Muggles would relate salamanders to small lizards, in the wizarding world they were much more fierce creatures with the possibility of igniting themselves as a defence mechanism.

The scales had been used in the brew, along with blood, nectar, toes and ground feathers. Had the spell been incomplete, had they needed to add more of a certain ingredient or had they forgotten one all together? She doubted it, but she had to consider the possibility.

Scrolling through the text though she found something very interesting, the text stating that Salamanders, even when not threatened, would need to release their flames from each pore of their body, lest result in becoming sick due to a buildup of energy. Hermione pondered on this for a moment as she looked at her own arm. If there was an ever increasing amount of energy being stored inside then it was clear that it would require to be released at some point.

The question now though, on the provido she was on the right track, was how?

...

 **Hope you enjoyed**


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

 **...**

"Alright Harry, if this actually hurts you, just know that I'm sorry," said Hermione as she lifted up her wand and pointed it directly at the teenage boy who stood there with his left arm raised in front of his chest, his fingers clenched into a fist. Ginny stood nearby, biting at the inside of her lip to prevent herself from hyperventilating.

It was a tense and unpredictable scenario to say the least.

In an unfamiliar classroom the trio of children had pushed all of the tables and chairs to the far corners of the room to ensure that they gave themselves plenty of space if anything went wrong. Since they were playing with ancient magic they felt the precautions necessary. It was also why they had chosen a room only a corridor away from the hospital wing.

An Autumn drizzle would keep a majority of the students inside the walls of the castle so they hoped that nobody came across what they were doing. It was a risk but they all knew that something had to be attempted in order to prevent something catastrophic from occurring, or so Hermione believed.

She had approached them the previous night and related their possible problem to that of an overflowing cauldron with magic still being pulled into the enchantment to the point where it was starting to overflow. Harry and Ginny had both agreed that if that was indeed the case then they would do something about it the following the day.

Hence how this situation came to be.

Hermione braced herself before she shot her curse forward, nothing dangerous but enough to see whether or not the charms they originally cast on the potion were active. "Petrificus Totalus!" she bellowed as the spell rocketed forth. Harry, understandably, had had his eyes clenched together as to not look the curse in the face. Having never been struck by this particular spell, he was unsure as to what sensation was meant to pass through his body. Complete movement was not what he expected.

"What happened?" asked Ginny.

"It didn't work," said Hermione as a smile grew upon her face.

"So what does that mean?" asked Harry.

Hermione responded by firing another curse at him. Ginny got in on the action as well. Good times were had.

Minutes passed by as Harry, Hermione and Ginny fired spell after spell at each other, exhausting their magical knowledge and firing every curse and hex they could think of. Unlike the nasty or painful results the spells should have inflicted, the only response was a small stinging sensation or a much less noticeable result. Through their playful session they did discover quite quickly that only when the spell made contact with where their tattooed curse was located was the spell completely nullified. The further away, such as on the other arm, legs and head were where the most effect was had, but even then with spells that were meant to create a rash there was nothing more than a freckle sized skin irritation, one which would vanish minutes later.

Of course, happy times didn't last forever as Ginny cast a cutting curse at Harry, expecting a scratch at the worst. Sadly, that wasn't the case.

A gasp of pain escaped Harry's lips as blood splashed across the floor, Hermione and Ginny gasping in shock and they dropped their wands as they rushed to where Harry was. "I'm so sorry!" apologized Ginny. The curse had sliced across Harry's arm, the one that wasn't etched on with the (supposed) Celtic brand.

Harry gripped at the gash, blood seeping through the gaps between his fingers as he did his best to keep the pressure on. "We need to get you to the hospital wing," declared Hermione.

"Wait," said Harry, startling both the girls into quiet. Harry stared intently at the wound. Seconds ticked by before he released his grip, Ginny nearly losing her lunch at the sight of the bleeding wound.

"You need to put pressure on it Harry," stated Hermione, but the Boy Who Lived could feel something other than pain at the moment. He had a theory and he needed to check it out. The other week when he had been attacked by Buckbeak, he had cut himself on both arms to test out if there was a difference in recovery. While his left arm had stitched itself together like he had predicted, his right arm had not. That being said though, come the following morning there was no indication that he had been cut at all.

Slowly, his theory proved true as the skin which had been severed started to move on it's own accord, patching over what had been torn flesh. It was nowhere near as quick as it's counterpart, taking the better part of five minutes to fully seal a wound which had been no wider than a quilltip, during which time neither of the three students moved a muscle. "Did you know that would happen?" asked Hermione, the first one to recover.

"No," answered Harry bluntly. "When Buckbeak got me the other day the wounds were a lot bigger, but on the other arm. I watched as strands of muscle sewed itself back together..."

That was as much as Ginny could handle as she kneeled over and the contents of her stomach exploded onto the floor, Hermione quickly bending over and holding the red haired girl's hair behind her head. Harry having had his statement cut off, turned his attention back on his arm as his mind worked overtime trying to come up with several possible theories he needed to test. At the moment he hypothesised that this magic was like a muscle, the more it was used the stronger it would get until the rest of his body was as enchanted as where the markings were.

It was a theory, one which would require a lot of painful activities in his own time. With Sirius Black potentially after him, however, he would need every advantage he could get his hands on.

 **...**

"That'll be detention, Mister Potter, for showing such vile artwork during class," declared Snape as he caught Harry looking at the intricate design on his arm. As soon as the trend had reached its peak in popularity it quickly became known that the Potion's Professor was by no means a fan of what was happening, and would punish those who showed a trace of ink upon their arm. While many of the students quickly found themselves purchasing Vanishing Ink, yet another brilliant creation by the Weasley twins, there were three students who such a thing would not work. "To teach you to clean yourself up you will scrub the floor after class until I am satisfied."

Harry meanwhile couldn't argue against the rules that the Potions master had put into place and grimaced at the fact he would be spending time after class in the presence of his least favourite teacher. It wasn't as if he had intentionally showed off the marks, but he'd been dropping Mermaid Scales into his cauldron and his sleeve had rolled down his arm. It was an accident, but still.

Looking over his shoulder he could see Draco Malfoy sniggering away. With an exasperated sigh, Harry once again focused on the task at hand. Thankfully the class would finish within the following fifteen minutes, Snape saying that Harry's potion was 'adequate for someone of his skill level.' Harry wasn't sure whether he was being complimented or insulted.

As he watched his fellow students leave, Harry made his way over to the stationary cupboard and pulled out the mop and bucket. With all the housework he had been forced to do during his childhood, this wasn't as much of a punishment for him compared to other students. Of course he wasn't going to tell Snape that.

Harry worked away diligently while Snape sat at his desk grading essays, every so often glancing at the teenager to ensure that he wasn't slacking off. The professor, like every other teacher in the school, had been informed by Dumbledore that what was happening with the three Gryffindor students was a delicate case that should be handled with caution. Snape meanwhile would not provoke the student population by permitting Harry to get away with something he punished everybody else for.

He would die before showing favouritism to the Potter boy.

The sound of the wooden mop crashing to the floor made Snape's head snap, up but before he had a chance to berate Harry for his clumsiness, he could see the look of silent agony on Harry's face as he gripped at his left forearm. With a primal yell, Harry did his best to contain whatever it was that was going on but even Snape could see that Harry was in a lot of pain. Sadly he was too late to do anything, by the time he stood up from his bench he could tell that he had missed whatever opportunity he had.

A vicious gale began circulating around the room, paperwork being tossed in every direction as Snape and Harry's robes danced in the wind. As quickly as it had begun it vanished, but it was not the end as Snape found himself bowled off his feet by a powerful gust of wind reminiscent of a tornado's fury. Clamoring to his feet, Snape readied himself for the next instance but considering that Harry no longer looked like he was in pain he felt like he was in the clear.

Harry meanwhile had bullets of sweat streaming down his face as he did his best to get his breathing under control, his heart pounding in his chest. He had no answers for what occurred but it had been much more painful than his previous attack, as if the magic itself had been trying to rip through his skin. It hadn't been the burning sensation he had felt before either, he didn't even know how to describe the pain he had felt.

"Mister Potter," said Snape, his voice cold and calculated. He crossed the distance between them in a matter of seconds, looking down at the teenage boy with something similar to disgust in his eyes. "Explain."

Harry had no answer.

...

Dumbledore was silent as Harry finished retelling the events that had unfolded down in the dungeon as well as what he, Ginny and Hermione had been experimenting with the previous day. With his fingers laced upon the desk, the Hogwarts headmaster could see that Harry had been trying desperately to figure out in his own way what it was that was upon his arm. Dangerous to say the least, but Harry had been quick to add that they had done what they could in a controlled environment. Of course this had simply made Albus curious as Harry refused to go into more details. Had the young teenager merely forgotten something or was he withholding on potentially valuable knowledge.

Whether Harry was deliberately concealing information for one reason or another didn't matter, Dumbledore through all of his years and experiences could tell that Harry was mishandling possibly crucial knowledge. Information that could be vital to the boy's survival. Probing the boy for more intel would likely be pointless, so while the Professor hated using it, he silently activated his Legilimency and began to invade the boy's mind.

His will was not menacing, merely inquizitive, and he couldn't tell whether it was because he hadn't used this skill in such a long time that when he probed the boy's memories he was not shown anything reminiscent to what he had been told. Looking around, he couldn't even spot Harry amongst the dungeon-esque room he was standing in. There were no doors, no windows yet he could see clearly the black paved pricks that made up the floor, walls and ceiling.

Just where was this?

 _"Get...out!"_

It wasn't a suggestion, it was a command.

Before Albus could locate the speaker he had been thrust out of Harry's mind at such a pace that he found himself knocked into the back of his chair, his eyes fluttering as he tried to comprehend what had just happened. He wasn't even able to hear Severus and Harry question him if he was alright or not, he was far too concerned with the voice that had thrust him out of Harry's mind, if that even was Harry's mind.

The voice had been cold and void of life, yet even as a whisper it had had such raw power behind it that Albus dared to question what would have happened, had he had actually had the power to stay. He had searched every crevice the room had prior to being ejected and he had not located anything resembling life.

There were two things Albus could contemplate the reasoning behind this was at that moment, undoubtedly he would spend the next several nights debating with the former Headmasters lining the walls for their opinion on the matter. Firstly, Harry was a natural at Occlumency. Unlikely yet plausible at the same time, the scar Voldemort having left being a natural guard to mental attacks.

The second option he could see however, was much more dark in nature. Perhaps the mind he had entered hadn't been Harry's at all. Dumbledore's glance looked down at the spell engraved onto Harry's skin, Snape and Harry following his gaze to witness as the previously black lines pulsated red as if in warning. While this was a theory it was one he could not tell Harry no matter how dangerous it may be.

The spell was sentient.

...

 **Hope you enjoyed, special thanks to kalebxdd for betaing my work**


	11. Chapter 11

"Alive! You can't be serious Albus?" exclaimed McGonagall, glad that she and the Headmaster were alone in his office, considering the contents of the conversation could be devastating to unprepared ears.

"I'm afraid so, Minerva," said Albus with an exasperated sigh.

"How can you be sure?" asked the Transfiguration teacher.

"I cannot explain to you what I saw in Harry's mind..."

"You used Legilimency on him!" yelled an outraged Minerva. "You would doubt his words to an extent where you felt the need to invade his thoughts." Several seconds passed before McGonagall realised what she had said. "My apologies."

"It is quite alright," said Dumbledore. "If anything, I am glad that you would feel such anger towards me for my actions, but know that I only did so for the safety of the students."

"So then...what did you discover?"

Another sigh escaped Dumbledore's lips before he began to explain what he had seen, the memory he was supposedly intruding upon, how the mental image was unlike anything he had ever seen before and how the cold voice had spoken to him. Minerva remained silent during his retelling of the events. While she did her best not to show favouritism to any of her students, she did have something of a soft spot for Harry and his cohorts. Whether this was due to the fact she had watched him dropped off to a Muggle household as a baby may have had something to do with it.

Needless to say, when Albus had finished his explanation there was silence between the two professors, each of them eyeing each other in order to try and better read the situation. Dumbledore was well aware he had crossed into dangerous territory when he had even contemplated entering the boy's mind; had his intrusion backfired any other way he could have left lasting damage on a mind that was still adolescent. Minerva meanwhile was doing her best to understand why Dumbledore felt the need to go to such lengths, a child was allowed to have their own privacy and this was clearly a delicate matter that Mister Potter wished to speak as little of as possible.

Finally, McGonagall allowed herself to audibly exhale as she figured that Dumbledore had seen the situation worth the risk, as much as she herself would like to disagree. "What would you have me do?" she asked.

"I do not yet know," said Dumbledore. "We are touching dangerous magic of which we do not know the origins, the book in which it was inscribed may have done so incorrectly and the magic itself may be of the oldest variety for all we know. I fear that as the children are hosting a yet unidentified form, there is no way to tell if it is malevolent in nature, and I dare not try to enter their minds once more."

"A suggestion, if I may," said Minerva allowing a glint of life to return to Albus' eyes. "Allow me to have them temporarily moved from my class."

"Professor?"

"Hear me out," stated McGonagall not wanting her train of thought to shatter just yet. "Take away rudimental subjects for but the moment in where their knowledge for the future is limited. While we may have had to suffer through History of Magic ourselves as children it is not essential for the short term. We do not know if the magic enchanted to them is vile or not, for all we know it may end up protecting them at a later date, but we must prepare for the worst and we have no way of knowing how to combat an unknown threat. Utilise this time, then to strengthen their magic as a whole. If they are forced into an eternal struggle give them the weapons to do so."

Lacing his fingers beneath his chin, Dumbledore contemplated what Minerva was asking of him. It would show blatant favouritism by all means, and some would ultimately believe that such behaviour is unbecoming of the Hogwarts Headmaster. Still, he could see merit in what McGonagall spoke of as a short term solution.

"You mean to teach them advanced magic," stated Dumbledore having read inbetween the lines.

"My timetable permits me some hours," declared McGonagall. "I believe Professor Lupin too would be more than willing to assist considering his connection to Harry's father."

"Is that an alternate reason for teaching them?" asked Dumbledore.

"We cannot forget the other threat," declared McGonagall. "We can use this as belief that the three of them may be tracked down in unison because of what they have on them by Sirius Black. Use that as an excuse as to not cause them to become more stressed out by alternate dangers."

"So then, what do you propose to teach them?" asked Dumbledore.

Minerva paused before she said anything more, not having particularly thought that Albus would be agreeing with her wholeheartedly on the situation. Taking that extra moment to recall how life had been fourteen years prior, when bloodshed and torture were present wherever Voldemort or his Death Eaters treaded. Skirmishes were common and she herself could recall having fought against the dangerous adversaries on more than a single occasion.

Many more.

"I will teach them what it was like back then," she said slowly.

"You contemplate turning schoolchildren into soldiers?" asked Dumbledore questioning whether or not this was the same woman who had berated him for attempting to take a peek inside Harry's mind.

"I contemplate teaching them to survive," declared McGonagall.

Minutes seemed to pass, Fawkes the phoenix looked between both of the professors who were dedicated to the stare down they had entered into. Finally, it would be Dumbledore who would break the silence. "Very well, teach them what you will, provided it doesn't tear them apart. You will report to me on the fortnight on what they know and what they are learning and I will judge accordingly whether what we are doing is right or wrong."

"As you wish," said Minerva. Believing that the conversation was over, the Transfiguration teacher turned on her heels and headed towards the exit.

"Minerva," stated Dumbledore forcing the Deputy Headmistress to freeze in her place. "Please, be careful."

Albus watched as Minerva headed towards the exit before allowing a sigh to escape his lips for what seemed like the upteenth time that evening. Was what they were doing right? Was it too dangerous for teenagers? Would they come to truly regret their decision?

Time would tell.

...

Remus Lupin was well aware of what he was, more so than anyone. Hence when his fellow professor had told him about the potential danger than James' son was in and what it could do to him, he knew that he would do everything in his power to protect Harry from whatever dangers were around.

Including his best friend.

It was daunting, but if the dementors surrounding the grounds were any indication then they expected a confrontation to occur at some stage. Having witnessed how the dementor had struck out at Harry however, then there was a chance that the dark creatures would strike out not only at Sirius, but Harry as well if given the chance. Hence why the topic of the day would be a helpful one, if not life saving given the potential circumstances.

Looking at the three students standing in front of them, he could tell that they had already been through a lot this school year, which considering they were less than a month in was saying something. They didn't know what was going on, their teachers didn't know what was happening, that was a lot to consider for a young mind. They hadn't asked for this, much like how he hadn't wished for his lycanthropy, but both parties had to deal with their dilemmas differently.

"Now," he said as he started pacing from side to side in front of them slowly, each step seemingly having individual purpose. "As you are aware, you three are quite the spectacle at the moment, both for your peers and your seniors. We are not showing favouritism by any means but Professor Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall and myself have deemed it necessary that the three of you be taught something outside of the normal curriculum. Today you will have me as your teacher while in a couple days you will meet here again with Professor McGonagall."

"Excuse me sir, but we have History of Magic at that time," said Harry.

"Everything has been arranged accordingly, you don't have to worry," said Lupin. "Now, this is going to seem unorthodox, mostly because the spell I will teach you today is going to be the groundwork for everything to come. Trust me, this magic is of Auror level, something which should never be taught to the three of you under normal circumstance. These, however, are not normal circumstances."

"Is this safe?" asked Hermione.

"For the moment, as safe as it can be. For the times in which you will need to use this spell, I guarantee you will not," stated Professor Lupin as he turned on his heel and began to pace the other way. "Now I am only going to teach you the method today, and this is something in which the three of you will have to work on in your own time and before you get any ideas, Hermione, not for this."

Ginny and Harry looked towards their friend, but the bushy haired witch said nothing. "Now," continued Remus, "I want the three of you to think about the happiest moment you have ever experienced and focus on that and nothing else, empty your minds and see only that moment."

Remus stopped his pacing to see that the three students had closed their eyes to try and track down their happiest moment. Slowly, smiles spread across their faces and Remus prepared to continue his lesson. "Now, raise your wands, keep focus of your memory and repeat after me, _Expecto Patronum._ "

" _Expecto Patronum,"_ they said in unison, opening their eyes to see the effect of their spell. For Harry and Hermione, they saw glimmers of white mist shooting forth from the tips of their wands. Ginny, however, had nothing.

"Don't panic," said Lupin gaining their attention, the white mist fading out of existence. "As I said earlier this is beyond an OWL level spell; if the three of you were to get it on the first try then I'd be shocked. Nevertheless, what Hermione and Harry were displaying were the very beginnings of the Patronus charm."

"What is the Patronus charm?" asked Harry.

"A full fledged patronus is a shield of sorts, constructed by the most positive feelings you can muster," explained Lupin. "Allow me to break it down. A Patronus, imagine it as a kind of positive force, with the Dementor feeding on it rather than the wizard casting it. In order for it to work, you need to think of a memory. Not just any memory, a very happy memory, a very powerful memory, the stronger the memory the stronger the spell. Once you've got a full grip on the memory, speak the incantation. Spend the next few minutes scrounging through your memories for something to latch onto and use it. Go back in time as far as necessary and show me just what you can do."

And so they did, minutes upon minutes and even stretching into hours they cast the spell over and over again, taking small breaks in between each incantation to find another memory or to try and remember more about the event they were trying to use. Eventually, their teacher for the day could see that the students were starting to suffer from fatigue. "I believe, that is enough for today," said Lupin. "I urge you not to show off this spell to your friends; if word got out that the three of you are learning such an advance spell then who knows what the consequences may be. Instead, I ask the three of you to focus on your memories, try to recall the happiest moment you can and we'll utilise that next week. Remember though, you have to be here the same time, and the lessons will be split both between myself and your head of house. I don't know what she has in store for you in a couple of days, but don't inform her of what you've learnt today; we'll give her a bit of a shock next week instead. Likewise, I expect whatever she decides to teach you will be equally as impressive to see. Now, off with you."

...

Harry remained awake, the darkness of night long having set in. Staring at the ceiling he did his best to ignore the snores escaping Ron and tried to focus on the positive things that had happened in his life. During the time he had spent with Professor Lupin alongside Ginny and Hermione he had used as many memories as he could, ranging from when Hagrid had given him his acceptance letter to Hogwarts, the first time he had flown to even the Christmas he had spent the previous year. None of those however had given him little more than a small sliver of the shield that Lupin had been expecting of them.

Thankfully though Hermione hadn't bounded ahead of him much like she did with other lessons.

At least that was a positive.

Rolling to his side, Harry did his best to try and think of something more positive that he could call upon. There was winning the house cup in his first year, but that seemed rather bland and generic. He had managed to slay his professor who had been possessed by Voldemort but that seemed more of an accomplishment as opposed to a positive memory. Same thing with saving Ginny the previous year, a stellar accomplishment that would make anybody proud, but the amount of darkness surrounding it made it something he couldn't call upon to summon his Patronus.

Everything he thought about had some underlying theme of negativity to it, was he just a beacon upon which negativity attached itself to? Slamming his eyes shut, Harry steadied his breathing and ignored the dark thoughts that were currently clouding his judgement.

Emptying his mind with the belief that he would figure something out over the coming week, Harry did his best to fall asleep. As his last breath of consciousness exited his system, he was only just able to hear a voice whispering to him.

" _Past...bad...Future...good."_


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter**

 **...**

Hermione had to admit that McGonagall's class away from the rest of the students was much more thrilling than the one that Professor Lupin had taught them. Unlike the Defence teacher however, Professor McGonagall had gone about teaching them the art of combat as it were, how a single creative spell could shift the change of battle.

Even watching the expressions of Harry and Ginny, she had first thought they would be appalled at such a lesson in which to spend their extra time. If the smiles on their faces were any indication however, they were enjoying this just as much as she was.

"Miss Granger," said McGonagall, snapping the intellectual student back into action. "Say you were being chased in the woods, you and your companions are severely outnumbered. How would you slow down your pursuers?"

Hermione bit at the inside of her lip as she considered several possible scenarios. "Do our pursuers know how to Apparate?" she asked in response.

"For the purpose of this exercise, let's say that they can't and are only able to chase you by foot," said McGonagall.

"Well," said Hermione as she tried to figure up a solution. "What if you were to liquify the ground behind you, turn it into a bog of sorts?"

McGonagall could tell by the sound of Hermione's voice that the brown haired girl was unsure of her answer. "Yes, that could work but you have to consider several possibilities in that case, especially for such a large scale spell. Firstly is time, do you have the time available to cast such a complicated spell without your incantation or your wand movements being disabled by a disarming or spell of a worse nature. Can either of you two point out another flaw in this plan?"

Ginny and Harry were silent for a few seconds before the elder boy spoke up. "The amount of magic for such a spell would be too much for an individual wizard?"

Once more, McGonagall could hear uncertainty in Harry's voice and was mildly pleased that the three of them didn't know if their answer was right or wrong. "That is true to a degree, the amount of magic a wizard can produce is usually determined by the connection between them and their wand, but can also be built up over time. Magic in and of itself can be considered as a muscle that needs constant training in order to grow in strength. Few believe though that by just being able to know how to cast the spell is enough. In this situation, the size you are trying to ensnare your pursuers in may be too far and wide for you to accomplish. By all means you may catch a handful at best but you will have spent what could turn out to be precious seconds."

"What if all of you were to use the same spell?" asked Ginny.

"Then the spell's effectiveness would be amplified by the combined strength of the magic that each person possesses," said the Transfiguration teacher. "This too though has it's complications."

"Such as the group needs to know the correct spell and be able to time perfectly," stated Hermione.

"Indeed that is correct Miss Granger, an inverse effect of such a tactic is that if just one of the group is to perform the spell incorrectly there is no way to tell just what may happen if, per say, two people were to try and cast a spell to turn a branch into a deer and someone, due to a mispronunciation, tried to cut the branch in half," said Professor McGonagall, breaking down the scenario. "I believe that is all we have time for today, I look forward to seeing what Professor Lupin taught you the other day. Remember though, everything discussed today never happened. The less people who know the better. Now, run along."

Having been dismissed, McGonagall watched as the trio of Gryffindors marched towards the exit. She hadn't expected them to take to the lesson so easily, but clearly Remus had told them that these were desperate times and as such desperate measures would be undertaken in order to ensure their safety. Theory had just as much place in such circumstance as practical application. Between these extra lessons she was unsure just what would become of the children themselves. Such lessons were outside of the curriculum for a reason and if the Ministry got word of just what was happening here there would be all manner of hell to pay.

Desperate measures indeed.

...

"The cry of the Mandrake is fatal to all who hear it," said Professor Sprout to her class of second year students, children of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw alike. While she had given this speech dozens of times before and likely still to repeat it dozens more, she couldn't help but smile at how the students all looked between one another for fear of death. This class, it seemed only one student wasn't afraid and she wasn't surprised to see that it was Luna Lovegood. Considering earlier times spent with the resident airhead she wouldn't be surprised she would state that the Mandrakes were merely attempting to sing when pulled from the spoil.

Carelessness or pure disbelief to reality, it was hard to tell.

Entertaining by all means.

"Now everybody grab a pair of earmuffs and make sure they're on securely," instructed the Herbology teacher.

"Here you go, Ginny," said Luna handing a pair of earmuffs over to the Weasley girl while the rest of the class scurried towards where the protection was stored.

"Why do you have a spare pair?" asked Ginny out of curiosity. "Wait, is it the Nargles again?"

"Actually it's the Lilydurch," said Luna. "They're dust sized creatures that lay their eggs in your ear, the babies feasting on the wax, the heat of earmuffs though vaporizes them before they can hatch."

"Good to know," said Ginny putting the earmuffs on, looking over towards the teacher. She enjoyed Herbology more than most of her other classes on the principle that she just enjoyed the outdoor setting. Having grown up at the Burrow where the nearest neighbour was miles away, she had spent a great deal of her youth running around outside with her brothers or flying around on the family brooms.

Good times.

"Alright then, everybody got their earmuffs on," shouted Professor Sprout, overlooking all of the children who gave her an affirmative thumbs up. All except for one. Ginny Weasley, who was unable to lift her hand due to a painful surge that suddenly rippled through her fingers. Her minute groans of agony were only noticed by Luna who turned her attention towards Ginny out of curiosity. Professor Sprout meanwhile, continued with the lesson.

"Prepare yourself everyone," she shouted as she gripped the top of the potentially lethal plant creature. With an almighty pull, she tore it from the soil and expected to see hear the ever familiar shrill scream of the grotesque monster.

There was no scream.

Absolute silence.

Professor Sprout looked at the mandrake in her hand, wondering whether it was dead or not but the small movements it made ensured her that it was still alive. Unsure of what was happening as the students watched on expectantly, the teacher made her way over to the next pot and tore out the mandrake inside. Once more the insufferable wailing she expected to hear was not there. Bewildered, she looked at all of the students present.

"CLASS DISMISSED, KEEP THE EARMUFFS ON, RETURN THEM NEXT CLASS!"

The instructions were clear, considering that at any moment if the mandrakes began to scream then they needed to protect their ears. Confused and unsure of what was happening, the students began filing out of the greenhouse silently. Ginny meanwhile, the pain having stopped, pulled up her sleeve to note that the markings on her arm were currently jade green in colour.

Sadly, she wasn't the only one to notice.

When they had reached the castle once more, only then did the students feel safe to take off the earmuffs they had been given not having known just how far a Mandrake's cry could potentially carry. "Here you go, Luna," said Ginny offering the earmuffs back to her friend.

"You keep them, Ginny," stated Luna.

"For the Lilydack," said Ginny hoping she had remembered the name of the mythical creature that may or may not exist.

"No, just because they look cute on you," declared Luna causing Ginny's cheeks to match the same colour as her hair. Luna meanwhile had skipped away towards the Ravenclaw common room completely oblivious to what Ginny was feeling.

Odd she definitely was.

Subtle, not in the slightest.

...

If Professor McGonagall was surprised by the fact that Remus had taught them the Patronus charm she managed to hide it quite well. She did have to admit though that it was a wise move to make, considering the vast amount of dementors surrounding the grounds. I would also be a good step into teaching them what was sometimes required for higher level magic.

"Professor McGonagall, I take it you are able to create a full bodied Patronus," said Remus earning a curt nod for his question. "If I may ask, would you be so kind as to show the students just what the complete spell looks like."

"Very well," said Minerva as she pulled out her wand and held it at shoulder height. _"Expecto Patronum."_

Unlike the thin walls of defence the children had been able to muster up to that point, white vapour exploded from McGonagall's wand before circling into itself, more of the magic shooting forward until it took corporal form. Hermione had to duck as the white creature flew over her head, fully manifesting itself into a cat very similar to the animagus that Minerva herself was able to transform into. It existed for a few more moments before vanishing into nothingness.

"Now Ginny, if you would do the honours and once you have cast your charm, please inform us of what your memory was, Hermione will then follow and end it all with Harry before we start the next spell," declared Professor Lupin as he put his hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. He was certain that Ginny would be the weakest, considering that she was the youngest of the trio. He did wish however for Harry to go last, considering that whatever memory he had would likely affect the thought process of the two girls.

Ginny meanwhile knew that she couldn't compete against what their head of house had just displayed. Steeling herself however she pulled out her wand and took a big inhale before shouting out " _Expecto Patronum!"_

Unlike the paper thin mist she had been able to produce previously, the shield she had managed to conjure was much thicker. A look of glee exploded on her face when she realised just how much she had improved in the small amount of time she had been given. Despite that though, she could feel the powerful magic taking a toll on her body and she was only able to keep the shield up for a handful of seconds before her arm collapsed to her side, beads of sweat having formed on her brow.

"As you can see, this kind of magic does have it's drawbacks," stated Remus as he handed Ginny a chocolate bar. "For instance, it times of dire needs it is quite difficult to summon anything remotely similar to what Ginny was able to create if you are unable to vision positive thoughts. Now Ginny, what did you think of?"

Wiping the sweat from her brow with her sleeve, Ginny looked over her shoulder at where Harry was standing. "I was thinking of when I woke up in the Chamber of Secrets, and Harry was there having saved me," she said slowly as a small glow began to form on her cheeks.

"I think you have the right memory to draw upon, at least for now," said Professor Lupin. "I doubt you'd be able to produce much more until such a time in which your magic grows in strength, keep pushing at it and you'll get it for sure."

Ginny beamed at the comments before Hermione stepped forward, wand in hand. Ginny stepped backwards towards where Harry was and saw him smiling at her, once more unable to prevent her cheeks from going red. Thankfully no attention was drawn towards her as Hermione belted out the spell.

Like Ginny, Hermione had clearly found the pivotal memory she needed. The defensive barrier she had produced was an inch thick and nearly impossible to see through. "Well done Hermione," Remus nearly shouted in congratulations. The spell continued to shoot forwards until Hermione allowed it to flicker away, happy with the fact she could hold it as long as she could without putting too much of stress on her reserves.

"Congratulations Miss Granger," said Professor McGonagall.

"When you told me, Professor, that she was an exceptional witch I never imagined just how spectacular she could be," said Professor Lupin, causing Hermione to try and shrink away from all of the praise she was getting. "Now, what memory were you thinking of?"

"Well," stater Hermione slowly. "I kind of went on the same line that Ginny had, when Harry and Ron saved me back in first year from the troll, and I made the best friends I could ever have as a result."

"Well Harry," said Remus as Hermione joined her fellow students, "You seem to have had a positive impact on these two, now let's see what you can do."

Harry swallowed nervously as he stepped forward. Breathing slowly, Harry concentrated as he lifted his wand up. _"Expecto Patronum,"_ he said calmly. For a moment nothing happened before white vapour exploded out of Harry's wand at a rate which astounded all present other than Harry who held his wand steady as the mist in front of him took shape.

Both Professors could say nothing as the white stag in front of them walked forward gracefully before raising its front hooves high in the air before they crashed down on the wooden floorboards. The corporal patronus moved around the room before coming to where Ginny was and nuzzled at the young girl's shoulder. While she shied away at first she couldn't help but extend her fingers and stroke the side of it's face.

"Harry this is amazing," said Hermione as she too found herself patting the stag.

"This is...beyond amazing," said Remus having lowered himself to the ground out of fear he would fall without support. "Exceptional doesn't even begin to describe what it is I'm witnessing right now."

"Mister Potter...how?" asked Professor McGonagall only now able to find her voice.

"I just thought of the most positive thing that I could," answered Harry.

"And pray, do tell just what memory you used?" said Professor Lupin as he struggled not to allow a tear to form in his eyes. The spell itself was one thing, for it to be a stag was something else entirely.

"I didn't use a memory," declared Harry.

"You didn't?" said Minerva in disbelief.

"No, I imagined the future."

...

 **Hope you enjoyed**


End file.
